*• ♦* K V
,0* '*o
^ ,
-
^6*
0 c ° ° •»
o
Ho,
?► "TV
* cr <*-
* A*
4 o
0? a% °-
o V
•w
<#\ * o » o '
■ , ' .
^ V f * • °- C\ .0 .5
^d«
*4 *M%2
****** :*£ii£a * * *sfe*
- 6/\ -^Si-: A lip /\ l-
0 ^' ,>o >
^0^
4>
^ -5,° -L^xL
*****
■<5> rt> n « C
» c
•i&5&> ^ </ 'iSter- ** **
*V"* ;^f^; ,SSV
"oV*
v*» (V ° 0\Ofc
te^sr^tmztM&te^^ KuTtEar
THE YOUNG KING
HE stood there in the raiment of a king, and the gates of the
Jewel Shrine flew open, and from the crystal of the many -rayed
monstrance shone a mavelous and mystical light.
BEN KUTCHER'S
Illustrated Edition of
A
HOUSE of POMEGRANATES
and the story of
THE NIGHTINGALE and THE ROSE
By OSCAR WILDE
with an introduction by
H. L. MENCKEN
A-SEQy
ENJTES
£
5 .', -■-;?!
-■■■ ;-,- 1
NEW YORK
MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
1918
ILLUSTRATIONS COPYRIGHTED, I918,
BY
Moffat, Yard & Company
o«nfanwr offk*
»P» K lift
OCT 15 iai8
CONTENTS
PAGE
The Happy Prince i
The Nightingale and the Rose 19
The Selfish Giant 31
The Young King 41
The Star-Child 65
The Fisherman and His Soul 93
The Birthday of the Infanta 151
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
The Young King Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
The Young King and the Weaver 48
The Young King and the Pearl Diver 52
The Young King and the Pilgrim 54
The Nobles Were Waiting for Him 58
The Star Child 66
"Thou Art My Son" 74
"He Heard from a Thicket as from Some One in Pain" 82
The Fisherman and the King's Daughter 94
The Witch's Dance 108
The Fisherman Sends Forth His Soul 112
The Birthday of the Infanta 152
"The Most Grotesque Monster He Had Ever Beheld" 174
"Your Little Dwarf Will Never Dance Again" . . . 176
PREFACE
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES" was done
almost exactly at the middle point of Wilde's
career as an author, and in the days, coincidently, of
his soundest and least perturbed celebrity. His
poems, his posturings and his high services to W. S.
Gilbert and to Punch were beginning to recede;
ahead of him were "Salome," the four West End
comedies, and catastrophe. Relatively placid wa-
ters surrounded him, shining in the sun. He had
been married, and had got over it. There was a
pleasant jingle of gold, or, at all events, of silver
in his pocket. The foremost reviews of the day were
open to him. He was not only a popular success, a
figure in the public eye; he was, more importantly,
beginning to get the attention of men of sense, to
be taken with growing seriousness, to feel firm
ground under him. And in age he was thirty-six,
with the gas of youth oozed out and the stiffening of
the climacteric not yet set in.
So situated, pleasantly becalmed between two
storms, he wrote "A House of Pomegranates," and
into it, I have always believed, he put the most ac-
i
PREFACE
curate and, on the whole, the most ingratiating reve-
lation of his essential ideas that was ever to get upon
paper. And without, of course, stating them at all —
not a hint of exposition, of persuasion, of pedagogy
is in the book. But that is precisely what gives them,
there, their clarity and validity; they are not spoken
for, they speak for themselves — and this is always
the way a man sets forth the faith that is in him most
honestly and most illuminatingly, not by arguing for
it like some tin-pot evangelist, but by exhibiting it
like an artist. Here we have the authentic Wilde,
the Wilde who explains and dignifies all the lesser
and more self-conscious Wildes. He is simply one
who stands ecstatic before a vision of prodigious and
almost intolerable beauty, a man haunted by inef-
fable magnificences of color, light, mass and line,
a rapt and garrulous drunkard of the eye. He is one
who apprehended loveliness in the world, not as
sound, not as idea, not as order, not as syllogism,
above all, not as law, but as picture pure and simple
— as an ocular image leaping with life, gorgeous in
its variety, infinite in its significances. And in the
face of that enchanting picture, standing spellbound
before its eloquent and narcotic forms, responding
with all senses to its charming and intricate details,
he appears before us as the type of all that the
men of his race and time were not — as a rebel
almost colossal in the profound artlessness of his
ii
PREFACE
denial. What he denied was the whole moral order
of the world — the fundamental assumption of the
Anglo-Saxon peoples. What he set up was a theory
of the world as purely aesthetic spectacle, superb in
its beauty, sufficiently its own cause and motive, or-
dered only by its own inner laws, and as innocent
of all ethical import and utility as the precession of
the equinoxes.
In this denial, of course, there was a challenge,
and in that challenge was Wilde's undoing. To see
him merely as a commonplace and ignoble misde-
meanant, taken accidentally in some secret swinish-
ness and condemned to a routine doom for that
swinishness alone, is to accept a view of him that is
impossibly journalistic and idiotic. He stood in the
dock charged with a good deal more than private
viciousness, and the punishment he got was a good
deal more than private viciousness ever provokes,
even from agents of the law who seek acquittal of
themselves in their flogging of the criminal. What
he was intrinsically accused of, and what he was so
barbarously punished for, was a flouting of the
premises upon which the whole civilization of his
time was standing — a blasphemous attempt upon the
gods that all docile and well-disposed men believed
in, even in the midst of disservice — an heretical
preaching of predicates and valuations that threat-
ened to make a new generation see the world in a
iii
PREFACE
new way, to the unendurable confusion of the old
one. In brief, his true trial was in the character of a
heretic, and the case before the actual jury was no
more than a symbol of a quite medieval summoning
of the secular arm. What the secular arm thought
of it I have often wondered — so astoundingly vast a
hub-bub over an affair of everyday! Surely fish of
precisely the same spots were coming into the net
constantly, and in the sea of London there were many
more, and some much larger to the eye. But Wilde,
in truth, was the largest of them all. He had been
marked for a long while, and delicately pursued.
Lines had been cast for him; watchers had waited;
there was a sort of affrighted and unspoken vow to
dispose of him. And so, when he was hauled in at
last, it was a good deal more than the mere taking
of another spotted fish.
Thus I see the whole transaction, so obscenely wal-
lowed in by the indignant and unintelligent, and thus
I see Wilde himself — as one who cried up too impu-
dently, too eloquently, and, above all, too persua-
sively a philosophy that was out of its time. As for-
midably ardent and potent upon the other side, I
haven't the slightest doubt that his pathological
sportings in the mire might have gone unchallenged,
or at all events unwhooped. One hears of such
things in Y. M. C. A.'s often enough, but in whis-
pers; the very newspapers show discretion; surely
iv
PREFACE
no great state trials ensue. But here was a man
who had done a great deal more than bring a pass-
ing stench into the synagogue. Here was one who
had brought a scarlet woman there, and paraded her
up and down, and shoved the croaking Iokanaan
back into his rain-barrel, and invited the young men
to consider the dignity and preciousness of beauty,
and fluttered even the old ones with his Byzantine
tales. Here, in brief, was one to be put down in swift
dudgeon if disaster was to be avoided — if the con-
cept of life as a bondage to implacable law was to
stand unshaken — if the moral order of the world,
or, at least, of that little corner of it, was to hold out
against a stealthy and abominable paganism. Wilde
was the first unmistakable anti-Puritan, the first un-
compromising enemy of the essential Puritan char-
acter— the fear of beauty. He was destroyed, on the
one hand, because he was getting power. He was
destroyed, on the other hand, because he was funda-
mentally weak.
That weakness resided, in part, in a childish van-
ity, an empty desire for superficial consideration,
that was peculiar to the man, but the rest of it, and
perhaps the larger part, had deeper roots. It be-
longed to his race, to the ineradicable Scotticism of
the North of Ireland Protestant; one perceives the
same quality, lavishly displayed, in George Bernard
Shaw — a congenital Puritanism beneath the surface
v
PREFACE
layer of anti-Puritanism, a sort of moral revolt
against the moral axiom, a civil war with fortunes
that vary curiously, and often astonishingly. Wilde,
as a youth, went to Greece with Mahaffy, and came
home a professed Greek, but underneath there were
always Northern reservations, a Northern habit of
conscience, a Northern incapacity for Mediterranean
innocence. One gets here, it seems to me, an explana-
tion of many things — his squeamishness in certain
little ways (all his work, in phrase, is as "clean"
as Walter Pater's or Leonardo's) ; his defective grasp
of the concept of honor, as opposed to that of morals ;
the strange limits set upon his aesthetic reactions
(e.g., his anesthesia to music) ; his touches of gross-
ness; his inability to distinguish between aristocracy
and mere social consideration; most of all, that irre-
pressible inner reminder which led him constantly
to stand aghast, so to speak, before his own heresies —
that pressing and ineradicable sense of their diabol-
ism. In a word, the man was quite unable to throw
off his inheritance entirely. It dogged him in the
midst of his prosperity. It corrupted his sincerity.
It sent doubts to tease him, and flung him into hollow
extravagances of self-assertion. And when, in the
end, he faced a tremendous and inexorable issue, he
met it in an almost typically Puritanical manner —
that is, timorously, evasively, dishonestly, with an
eye upon the crowd, almost morally — as you will find
vi
PREFACE
set forth at length, if you are interested, in Frank
Harris' capital biography.
In a word, Wilde was, at bottom, a second-rate
man, and so inferior to his cause that he came near
ditching it. One gets, from the accounts of those
who were in close relations with him, a feeling of
repugnance like that bred by the familiar "good
man"; he was, on his plane, as insufferable as a
Methodist is on his. But there was in him something
that is surely not in the Methodist, and that was a
capacity for giving his ideas a dignity not in him-
self— a talent as artist which, at its best, was almost
enough to conceal his limitations as a man. What he
did with words was a rare and lovely thing. Him-
self well-nigh tone-deaf, he got into them a sonorous
and majestic music. Himself hideous, he fashioned
them into complex and brilliant arabesques of beauty.
Himself essentially shallow and even bogus, he gave
them thunderous eloquence, an austere dignity al-
most Biblical, the appearance of high sincerity that
goes with all satisfying art. In these stories, I be-
lieve, he is at his best. His mere flashiness is reduced
to very little; his ideas, often hollow, are submerged
in feelings; he seems to forget his followers, his
place, his celebrity, and to devote himself wholly
to his work; he is the artist emancipated, for the mo-
ment, from the other things that he was, and the
worse things that he tried to be. I know of no mod-
vii
PREFACE
ern English that projects color and warmth and form
more brilliantly, or that serves more nobly the high
purposes of beauty, or that stands further from the
flaccid manner and uses of everyday stupidity.
There are faults in it, true enough. At times it grows
self-conscious, labored, almost sing-song. But in the
main it is genuinely distinguished — in the main it is
signal work.
H. L. Mencken.
Vlll
THE HAPPY PRINCE
THE HAPPY PRINCE
HIGH above the city, on a tall column, stood the
statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded
all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had
two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed
on his sword-hilt.
He was very much admired indeed. "He is as
beautiful as a weathercock," remarked one of the
Town Councilors who wished to gain a reputation
for having artistic tastes; "only not quite so useful,"
he added, fearing lest people should think him un-
practical, which he really was not.
"Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?" asked
a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying
for the moon. "The Happy Prince never dreams of
crying for anything."
"I am glad there is some one in the world who is
quite happy," muttered a disappointed man as he
gazed at the wonderful statue.
"He looks just like an angel," said the Charity
Children as they came out of the cathedral in their
bright scarlet cloaks, and their clean white pinafores.
"How do you know?" said the Mathematical Mas-
ter, "you have never seen one."
i
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"Ah! but we have, in our dreams," answered the
children, and the Mathematical Master frowned and
looked very severe, for he did not approve of chil-
dren dreaming.
One night there flew over the city a little Swallow.
His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks be-
fore, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love
with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early
in the spring as he was flying down the river after a
big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her
slender waist he had stopped to talk to her.
"Shall I love you?" said the Swallow, who liked
to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him
a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touch-
ing the water with his wings, and making silver rip-
ples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all
through the summer.
"It is a ridiculous attachment," twittered the
other Swallows, "she has no money, and far too many
relations"; and indeed the river was quite full of
Reeds. Then, when the autumn came, they all flew
away.
After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to
tire of his lady-love. "She has no conversation," he
said, "and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she
is always flirting with the wind." And certainly,
whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most
graceful curtsies. "I admit that she is domestic," he
2
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
continued, "but I love traveling, and my wife, con-
sequently, should love traveling also."
"Will you come away with me?" he said finally
to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so at-
tached to her home.
"You have been trifling with me," he cried, "I
am off to the Pyramids. Good-by!" and he flew
away.
All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived
at the city. "Where shall I put up?" he said; "I
hope the town has made preparations."
Then he saw the statue on the tall column. "I
will put up there," he cried; "it is a fine position
with plenty of fresh air." So he alighted just be-
tween the feet of the Happy Prince.
"I have a golden bedroom," he said softly to him-
self as he looked round, and he prepared to go to
sleep ; but just as he was putting his head under
his wing a large drop of water fell on him. "What
a curious thing!" he cried, "there is not a single cloud
in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and
yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Eu-
rope is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the
rain, but that was merely her selfishness."
Then another drop fell.
"What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the
rain off?" he said; "I must look for a good chim-
ney-pot," and he determined to fly away.
3
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
But before he had opened his wings, a third drop
fell, and he looked up, and saw — Ah! what did he
see?
The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with
tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks.
His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the
Swallow was filled with pity.
"Who are you?" he said.
"I am the Happy Prince."
"Why are you weeping then?" asked the Swallow;
"you have quite drenched me."
"When I was alive and had a human heart," an-
swered the statue, "I did not know what tears were,
for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci, where sor-
row is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played
with my companions in the garden, and in the even-
ing I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the
garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask
what lay beyond it, everything about me was so
beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy
Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be hap-
piness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that
I am dead they have set me up here so high that I
can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my
city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I
cannot choose but weep."
"What, is he not solid gold?" said the Swallow
4
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
to himself. He was too polite to make any personal
remarks out loud.
"Far away," continued the statue in a low musical
voice, "far away in a little street there is a poor
house. One of the windows is open, and through it
I can see a woman seated at the table. Her face is
thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all
pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She
is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for
the loveliest of the Queen's maids-of-honor to wear
at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the
room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and
is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to
give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow,
Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the
ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to
this pedestal and I cannot move."
"I am waited for in Egypt," said the Swallow.
"My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and
talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they will
go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The
King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is
wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices.
Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and
his hands are like withered leaves."
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the
Prince, "will you not stay with me for one night, and
5
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the
mother so sad."
"I don't think I like boys," answered the Swallow.
"Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there
were two rude boys, the miller's sons, who were al-
ways throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of
course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and
besides, I come of a family famous for its agility;
but still, it was a mark of disrespect."
But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little
Swallow was sorry. "It is very cold here," he said;
"but I will stay with you for one night, and be your
messenger."
"Thank you, little Swallow," said the Prince.
So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from
the Prince's sword and flew away with it in his beak
over the roofs of the town.
He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white
marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the
palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beauti-
ful girl came out on the balcony with her lover.
"How wonderful the stars are," he said to her, "and
how wonderful is the power of love!" "I hope my
dress will be ready in time for the State-ball," she
answered; "I have ordered passion-flowers to be em-
broidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy."
He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns
hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over
6
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining with
each other, and weighing out money in copper scales.
At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The
boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother
had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped,
and laid the great ruby on the table beside the
woman's thimble. Then he flew gently round the
bed, fanning the boy's forehead with his wings.
"How cool I feel," said the boy, "I must be getting
better;" and he sank into a delicious slumber.
Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince,
and told him what he had done. "It is curious," he
remarked, "but I feel quite warm now, although it
is so cold."
"That is because you have done a good action,"
said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to
think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always
made him sleepy.
When day broke he flew down to the river and had
a bath. "What a remarkable phenomenon," said the
professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the
bridge. "A swallow in winter!" And he wrote a
long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every-
one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they
could not understand.
"To-night I go to Egypt," said the Swallow and
he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited
all the public monuments, and sat a long time on
7
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
top of the church steeple. Wherever he went Spar-
rows chirruped, and said to each other, "What a
distinguished stranger!" so he enjoyed himself very
much.
When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy
Prince. "Have you any commissions for Egypt?"
he cried; "I am just starting."
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the
Prince, "will you not stay with me one night longer?"
"I am waited for in Egypt," answered the Swal-
low. "To-morrow my friends will fly up to the
Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there
among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne
sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches
the stars, and when the morning star shines he ut-
ters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the
yellow lions come down to the water's edge to drink.
They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is
louder than the roar of the cataract."
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the
Prince, "far away across the city I see a young man
in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with
papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch
of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp,
and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has
large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play
for the Director of the Theater, but he is too cold
8
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and
hunger has made him faint."
"I will wait with you one night longer," said the
Swallow, who really had a good heart. "Shall I
take him another ruby?"
"Alas! I have no ruby now," said the Prince;
"my eyes are all that I have left. They are made
of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India
a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and
take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweler, and
buy food and firewood, and finish his play."
"Dear Prince," said the Swallow, "I cannot do
that;" and he began to weep.
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the
Prince, "do as I command you."
So the swallow plucked out the Prince's eye, and
flew away to the student's garret. It was easy enough
to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through
this he darted, and came into the room. The young
man had his head buried in his hands, so he did
not hear the flutter of the bird's wings, and when he
looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on
the withered violets.
"I am beginning to be appreciated," he cried;
"this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish
my play," and he looked quite happy.
The next day the Swallow flew down to the har-
bor. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and
9
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the
hold with ropes. "Heave a-hoy!" they shouted as
each chest came up. "I am going to Egypt!" cried
the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the
moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
"I am come to bid you good-by," he cried.
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the
Prince, "will you not stay with me one night longer?"
"It is winter," answered the Swallow, "and the
chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is
warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie
in the mud and look lazily about them. My com-
panions are building a nest in the Temple of Baal-
bec, and the pink and white doves are watching them,
and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave
you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I
will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place
of those you have given away. The ruby shall be
redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as
blue as the great sea."
"In the square below," said the Happy Prince,
"there stands a little match-girl. She has let her
matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled.
Her father will beat her if she does not bring home
some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes
or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out
my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will
not beat her."
10
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"I will stay with you one night longer," said the
Swallow, "but I cannot pluck out your eye. You
would be quite blind then."
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the
Prince, "do as I command you."
So he plucked out the Prince's other eye, and
darted down with it. He swooped past the match-
girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand.
"What a lovely bit of glass," cried the little girl; and
she ran home, laughing.
Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. "You
are blind now," he said, "so I will stay with you al-
ways."
"No, little Swallow," said the poor Prince, "you
must go away to Egypt."
"I will stay with you always," said the Swallow,
and he slept at the Prince's feet.
All the next day he sat on the Prince's shoulder,
and told him stories of what he had seen in strange
lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in
long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold
fish in their beaks ; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the
world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows every-
thing; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side
of their camels, and carry amber in their hands;
of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who
is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal;
of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree,
ii
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes;
and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large
flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.
"Dear little Swallow," said the Prince, "you tell
me of marvelous things, but more marvelous than
anything is the suffering of men and of women.
There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over
my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see
there."
So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw
the rich making merry in their beautiful houses,
while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He
flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starv-
ing children looking out listlessly at the black streets.
Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were
lying in one another's arms to try and keep them-
selves warm. "How hungry we are!" they said.
"You must not lie here," shouted the Watchman,
and they wandered out into the rain.
Then he flew back and told the Prince what he
had seen.
"I am covered with fine gold," said the Prince,
"you must take it off leaf by leaf, and give it to my
poor; the living always think that gold can make
them happy."
Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked
off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and gray.
Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the
12
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
poor, and the children's faces grew rosier, and they
laughed and played games in the street. "We have
bread now!" they cried.
Then the snow came, and after the snow came the
frost. The streets looked as if they were made of
silver, they were so bright and glistening; long
icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves
of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the
little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.
The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder,
but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too
well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker's door
when the baker was not looking, and tried to keep
himself warm by flapping his wings.
But at last he knew that he was going to die. He
had just strength to fly up to the Prince's shoulder
once more. "Good-by, dear Prince!" he mur-
mured, "will you let me kiss your hand?"
"I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last,
little Swallow," said the Prince, " you have stayed
too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for
I love you."
"It is not to Egypt that I am going," said the Swal-
low. "I am going to the House of Death. Death
is the brother of Sleep, is he not?"
And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and
fell down dead at his feet.
At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the
13
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
statue as if something had broken. The fact is that
the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It cer-
tainly was a dreadfully hard frost.
Early the next morning the Mayor was walking
in the square below in company with the Town
Councilors. As they passed the column he looked
up at the statue: "Dear me! how shabby the Happy
Prince looks!" he said.
"How shabby indeed!" cried the Town Council-
ors, who always agreed with the Mayor, and they
went up to look at it.
"The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are
gone, and he is golden no longer," said the Mayor;
"in fact, he is little better than a beggar!"
"Little better than a beggar," said the Town Coun-
cilors.
"And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!" con-
tinued the Mayor. "We must really issue a procla-
mation that birds are not to be allowed to die here."
And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.
So they pulled down the statue of the Happy
Prince. "As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer
useful," said the Art Professor at the University.
Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the
Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide
what was to be done with the metal. "We must have
another statue, of course," he said, "and it shall be a
statue of myself."
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"Of myself," said each of the Town Councilors,
and they quarreled. When I last heard of them
they were quarreling still.
"What a strange thing!" said the overseer of the
workmen at the foundry. "This broken lead heart
will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it
away." So they threw it on a dust-heap where the
dead swallow was also lying.
"Bring me the two most precious things in the
city," said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel
brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.
"You have rightly chosen," said God, "for in my
garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing forever-
more, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall
praise me."
1*
THF
NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE
THE
NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE
SHE said that she would dance with me if 1
brought her red roses," cried the young
Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose."
From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale
heard him, and she looked out through the leaves,
and wondered.
"No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his
beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little
things does happiness depend! I have read all that
the wise men have written, and all the secrets of
philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is
my life made wretched."
"Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale.
"Night after night have I sung of him, though I
knew him not: night after night have I told his story
to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark
as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the
rose of his desire; but passion has made his face
like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his
brow."
"The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night," mur-
mured the young Student, "and my love will be
19
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
of the company. If I bring her a red rose she will
dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose,
I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her
head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped
in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so
I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will
have no heed of me, and my heart will break."
"Here indeed is the true lover," said the Nightin-
gale. "What I sing of, he suffers; what is joy to me,
to him is pain. Surely, Love is a wonderful thing. It
is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine
opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor
is it set forth in the market-place. It may not be
purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed
out in the balance for gold."
"The musicians will sit in their gallery," said the
young Student, "and play upon their stringed instru-
ments, and my love will dance to the sound of the
harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that
her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers
in their gay dresses will throng round her. But with
me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give
her;" and he flung himself down on the grass, and
buried his face in his hands, and wept.
"Why is he weeping?" asked a little Green Lizard,
as he ran past him with his tail in the air.
"Why, indeed?" said a Butterfly, who was flutter-
ing after a sunbeam.
20
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"Why, indeed?" whispered a Daisy to his neigh-
bor, in a soft, low voice.
"He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightin-
gale.
"For a red rose!" they cried; "how very ridicu-
lous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of
a cynic, laughed outright.
But the Nightingale understood the secret of the
Student's sorrow, and she sat silent in the Oak-tree,
and thought about the mystery of love.
Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight,
and soared into the air. She passed through the
grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed
across the garden.
In the center or the grass-plot was standing a
beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it, she flew
over to it, and lit upon a spray.
"Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing
you my sweetest song."
But the Tree shook its head.
"My roses are white," it answered; "as white as
the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon
the mountain. But go to my brother who grows
round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you
what you want."
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that
was growing round the old sun-dial.
21
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing
you my sweetest song."
But the Tree shook its head.
"My roses are yellow," it answered; "as yellow
as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber
throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms
in the meadow before the mower comes with his
scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the
Student's window, and perhaps he will give you what
you want."
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that
was growing beneath the Student's window.
"Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing
you my sweetest song."
But the Tree shook its head.
"My roses are red," it answered, "as red as the
feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of
coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But
the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has
nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my
branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year."
"One red rose is all I want," cried the Nightin-
gale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which
I can get it?"
"There is a way," answered the Tree; "but it is
so terrible that I dare not tell it to you."
"Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not
afraid."
22
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must
build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with
your own heart's-blood. You must sing to me with
your breast against a thorn. All night long you must
sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and
your life-blood must flow into my veins and become
mine."
"Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried
the Nightingale, "and Life is very dear to all. It is
pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the
Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her
chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn,
and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley,
and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is
better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird com-
pared to the heart of a man?"
So she spread her brown wings for flight, and
soared into the air. She swept over the garden like
a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the
grove.
The young Student was still lying on the grass,
where she had left him, and the tears were not yet
dry in his beautiful eyes.
"Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy;
you shall have your red rose. I will build it out
of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own
heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that
you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Phi-
23
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
losophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power,
though he is mighty. Flame-colored are his wings,
and colored like flame is his body. His lips are sweet
as honey, and his breath is like frankincense."
The Student looked up from the grass, and listened,
but he could not understand what the Nightingale
was saying to him, for he only knew the things that
are written down in books.
But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for
he was very fond of the little Nightingale who had
built her nest in his branches.
"Sing me one last song," he whispered; "I shall
feel very lonely when you are gone."
So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her
voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.
When she had finished her song, the Student got
up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of
his pocket.
"She has form," he said to himself, as he walked
away through the grove — "that cannot be denied to
her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In
fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without
any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for
others. She thinks merely of music, and everybody
knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be ad-
mitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice.
What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or
do any practical good." And he went into his room,
24
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to
think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.
And when the Moon shone in the heavens the
Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast
against the thorn. All night long she sang with her
breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon
leaned down and listened. All night long she sang,
and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her
breast, and her life blood ebbed away from her.
She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a
boy and a girl. And on the topmost spray of the
Rose-tree there blossomed a marvelous rose, petal
followed petal, as song followed song. Pale was it,
at first, as the mist that hangs over the river — pale as
the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of
the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of
silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was
the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the
Tree.
But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press
closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Night-
ingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come be-
fore the rose is finished."
So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn,
and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang
of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a
maid.
And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves
25
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bride-
groom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the
thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose's
heart remained white, for only a Nightingale's
heart's-blood can crimson the heart of a rose.
And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press
closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Night-
ingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come be-
fore the rose is finished."
So the Nightingale pressed closer against the
thorn, and the thorn touched her heart and a fierce
pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was
the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for
she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of
the Love that dies not in the tomb.
And the marvelous rose became crimson, like the
rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of
petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.
But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter, and her
little wings began to beat, and a film came over her
eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she
felt something choking her in her throat.
Then she gave one last burst of music. The white
Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered
on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled
all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the
cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple
cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds
26
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
from their dreams. It floated through the reeds of
the river, and they carried its message to the sea.
"Look, look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished
now;" but the Nightingale made no answer, for she
was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in
her heart.
And at noon the Student opened his window and
looked out.
•'Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!" he cried;
"here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like
it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure
that it has a long Latin name"; and he leaned down
and plucked it.
Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Profes-
sor's house with the rose in his hand.
The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the
doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little
dog was lying at her feet.
"You said that you would dance with me if I
brought you a red rose," cried the Student. "Here
is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it
to-night next your heart, and as we dance together
it will tell you how I love you."
But the girl frowned.
"I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she
answered; "and, besides, the Chamberlain's nephew
sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that
jewels cost far more than flowers."
27
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful,"
said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into
the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-
wheel went over it.
"Ungrateful!" said the girl. "I tell you what, you
are very rude; and, after all, who are you? Only a
Student. Why, I don't believe you have even got
silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain's
nephew has"; and she got up from her chair and
went into the house.
"What a silly thing Love is," said the Student as
he walked away. "It is not half as useful as Logic,
for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling
one of things that are not going to happen, and mak-
ing one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is.
quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical
is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and
study Metaphysics."
So he returned to his room and pulled out a great
dusty book, and began to read.
28
THE SELFISH GIANT
THE SELFISH GIANT
EVERY afternoon, as they were coming from
school, the children used to go and play in the
Giant's garden.
It was a large, lovely garden, with soft, green grass.
Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers
like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in
the springtime broke out into delicate blossoms of
pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit.
The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that
the children used to stop their games in order to
listen to them. "How happy we are here!" they
cried to each other.
One day the Giant came back. He had been to
visit his friend, the Cornish ogre, and had stayed
with him for seven years. After the seven years
were over he had said all that he had to say, for his
conversation was limited, and he determined to re-
turn to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the
children playing in the garden.
"What are you doing there?" he cried in a very
gruff voice, and the children ran away.
"My own garden is my own garden," said the
Giant; "any one can understand that, and I will
3i
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
allow nobody to play in it but myself." So he built
a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.
TRESPASSERS
WILL BE
PROSECUTED
He was a very selfish giant.
The poor children had now nowhere to play.
They tried to play on the road, but the road was very
dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it.
They used to wander round the high wall when their
lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden
inside. "How happy we were there," they said to
each other.
Then the Spring came, and all over the country
there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in
the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter.
The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no
children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a
beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but
when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the
children that it slipped back into the ground again,
and went off to sleep. The only people who were
pleased were the Snow and the Frost. "Spring has
forgotten this garden," they cried, "so we will live
here all the year round." The Snow covered up the
32
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost
painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the
North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He
was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the
garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. "This is
a delightful spot," he said, "we must ask the Hail on
a visit." So the Hail came. Every day for three
hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke
most of the slates, and then he ran round and round
the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in
gray, and his breath was like ice.
"I can not understand why the Spring is so late
in coming," said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the
window and looked out at his cold white garden;
"I hope there will be a change in the weather."
But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The
Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to
the Giant's garden she gave none. "He is too
selfish," she said. So it was always Winter there,
and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost,
and the Snow danced about through the trees.
One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed
when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so
sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King's
musicians passing by. It was really only a little
linnet singing outside his window but it was so long
since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it
seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the
33
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his
head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a de-
licious perfume came to him through the open case-
ment. "I believe the Spring has come at last," said
the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.
What did he see?
He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little
hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they
were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every
tree that he could see there was a little child. And
the trees were so glad to have the children back again
that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and
were waving their arms gently above the children's
heads. The birds were flying about and twittering
with delight, and the flowers were looking up
through the green grass and laughing. It was a
lovely scene, only in one corner it was still winter.
It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it
was standing a little boy. He was so small that he
could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he
was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The
poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow,
and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above
it. "Climb up! little boy," said the Tree, and it
bent its branches down as low as it could; but the
boy was too tiny.
And the Giant's heart melted as he looked out.
"How selfish I have been!" he said; "now I know
34
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
why the Spring would not come here. I will put
that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then
I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be
the children's playground for ever and ever." He
was really very sorry for what he had done.
So he crept downstairs and opened the front door
quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when
the children saw him they were so frightened that
they all ran away, and the garden became winter
again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes
were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant
coming. And the Giant strode up behind him and
took him gently in his hand, and put him up into
the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom,
and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy
stretched out his two arms, and flung them round
the Giant's neck, and kissed him. And the other
children, when they saw that the Giant was not
wicked any longer, came running back, and with
them came the Spring. "It is your garden now, little
children," said the Giant, and he took a great ax and
knocked down the wall. And when the people were
going to market at twelve o'clock they found the
Giant playing with the children in the most beauti-
ful garden they had ever seen.
All day long they played, and in the evening they
came to the Giant to bid him good-by.
"But where is your little companion?" he said:
35
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"the boy I put into the tree." The Giant loved him
the best because he had kissed him.
"We don't know," answered the children; "he has
gone away."
"You must tell him to be sure and come here to-
morrow," said the Giant. But the children said
that they did not know where he lived, and had never
seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.
Every afternoon, when school was over, the
children came and played with the Giant. But the
little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again.
The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he
longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of
him. "How I would like to see him!" he used to say.
Years went over, and the Giant grew very old
and feeble. He could not play about any more,
so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the
children at their games, and admired his garden.
"I have many beautiful flowers," he said; "but the
children are the most beautiful flowers of all."
One winter morning he looked out of his window
as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter
now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring,
asleep, and that the flowers were resting.
Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked
and looked. It certainly was a marvelous sight.
In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite
covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches
36
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from
them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had
loved.
Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out
into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and
came near to the child. And when he came quite
close his face grew red with anger, and he said,
"Who hath dared to wound thee?" For on the palms
of the child's hands were the prints of two nails,
and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.
"Who hath dared to wound thee?" cried the
Giant; "tell me, that I may take my big sword and
slay him."
"Nay!" answered the child; "but these are the
wounds of Love."
"Who art thou?" said the Giant, and a strange
awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.
And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to
him, "You let me play once in your garden, to-day
you shall come with me to my garden, which is
Paradise."
And when the children ran in that afternoon, they
found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all
covered with white blossoms.
37
THE YOUNG KING
THE YOUNG KING
IT was the night before the day fixed for his
coronation, and the young King was sitting alone
in his beautiful chamber. His courtiers had all taken
their leave of him, bowing their heads to the ground,
according to the ceremonious usage of the day, and
had retired to the Great Hall of the Palace, to re-
ceive a few lessons from the Professor of Etiquette;
there being some of them who had still quite natural
manners, which in a courtier is, I need hardly say,
a very grave offense.
The lad — for he was only a lad, being but sixteen
years of age — was not sorry at their departure, and
had flung himself back with a deep sigh of relief on
the soft cushions of his embroidered couch, lying
there, wild-eyed and open-mouthed, like a brown
woodland Faun, or some young animal of the forest
newly snared by the hunters.
And, indeed, it was the hunters who had found
him, coming upon him almost by chance as, bare-
limbed and pipe in hand, he was following the flock
of the poor goatherd who had brought him up, and
whose son he had always fancied himself to be. The
child of the old King's only daughter by a secret
4i
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
marriage with one much beneath her in station — a
stranger, some said, who, by the wonderful magic
of his lute-playing, had made the Young Princess
love him; while others spoke of an artist from
Rimini, to whom the Princess had shown much, per-
haps too much honor, and who had suddenly dis-
appeared from the city, leaving his work in the
Cathedral unfinished — he had been, when but a week
old, stolen away from his mother's side, as she slept,
and given into the charge of a common peasant and
his wife, who Were without children of their own,
and lived in a remote part of the forest more than
a day's ride from the town. Grief, or the plague, as
the court physician stated, or, as some suggested, a
swift Italian poison administered in a cup of spiced
wine, slew, within an hour of her wakening, the
white girl who had given him birth, and as the
trusty messenger who bore the child across the sad-
dle-bow stooped from his weary horse and knocked
at the rude door of the goatherd's hut, the body of the
Princess was being lowered into an open grave that
had been dug in a deserted churchyard, beyond the
city gates, a grave where it was said that another
body was also lying, that of a young man of marvel-
ous and foreign beauty whose hands were tied be-
hind him with a knotted cord, and whose breast was
stabbed with many red wounds.
Such, at least, was the story that men whispered
42
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
to each other. Certain it was that the old King,
when on his death-bed, whether moved by remorse
for his great sin, or merely desiring that the king-
dom should not pass away from his line, had had the
lad sent for, and, in the presence of the Council, had
acknowledged him as his heir.
And it seems that from the very first moment of
his recognition he had shown signs of that strange
passion for beauty that was destined to have so great
an influence over his life. Those who accompanied
him to the suite of rooms set apart for his service,
often spoke of the cry of pleasure that broke from
his lips when he saw the delicate raiment and rich
jewels that had been prepared for him, and of the
almost fierce joy with which he flung aside his rough
leathern tunic and coarse sheepskin cloak. He
missed, indeed, at times the fine freedom of his forest
life, and was always apt to chafe at the tedious
Court ceremonies that occupied so much of each day,
but the wonderful palace — Joyeuse, as they called
it — of which he now found himself lord, seemed to
him to be a new world fresh-fashioned for his de-
light; and as soon as he could escape from the coun-
cil-board or audience-chamber, he would run down
the great staircase, with its lions of gilt bronze and
its steps of bright porphyry, and wander from room
to room, and from corridor to corridor, like one who
43
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
was seeking to find in beauty an anodyne from pain,
a sort of restoration from sickness.
Upon these journeys of discovery, as he would call
them — and, indeed, they were to him real voyages
through a marvelous land — he would sometimes be
accompanied by the slim, fair-haired Court pages,
with their floating mantles, and gay fluttering
ribands; but more often he would be alone, feeling
through a certain quick instinct, which was almost
a divination, that the secrets of art are best learned
in secret, and that Beauty, like Wisdom, loves the
lonely worshiper.
Many curious stories were related about him at
this period. It was said that a stout Burgomaster,
who had come to deliver a florid oratorical address
on behalf of the citizens of the town, had caught
sight of him kneeling in real adoration before a
great picture that had just been brought from Venice,
and that seemed to herald the worship of some new
gods. On another occasion he had been missed for
several hours, and after a lengthened search had been
discovered in a little chamber in one of the northern
turrets of the palace gazing, as one in a trance, at a
Greek gem carved with the figure of Adonis. He
had been seen, so the tale ran, pressing his warm lips
to the marble brow of an antique statue that had been
discovered in the bed of the river on the occasion
of the building of the stone bridge, and was inscribed
44
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
with the name of the Bithynian slave of Hadrian.
He had passed a whole night in noting the effect of
the moonlight on a silver image of Endymion.
All rare and costly materials had certainly a great
fascination for him, and in his eagerness to pro-
cure them he had sent away many merchants, some
to traffic for amber with the rough fisher-folk of the
north seas, some to Egypt to look for that curious
green turquoise which is found only in the tombs of
kings, and is said to possess magical properties, some
to Persia for silk carpets and painted pottery, and
others to India to buy gauze and stained ivory, moon-
stones and bracelets of jade, sandal-wood and blue
enamel and shawls of fine wool.
But what had occupied him most was the robe he
was to wear at his coronation, and the robe of tissued
gold, and the ruby-studded crown, and the scepter
with its rows and rings of pearls. Indeed, it was
of this that he was thinking to-night, as he lay back
on his luxurious couch, watching the great pine-
wood log that was burning itself out on the open
hearth. The designs, which were from the hands
of the most famous artists of the time, had been sub-
mitted to him many months before, and he had given
orders that the artificers were to toil night and day
to carry them out, and that the whole world was to
be searched for jewels that would be worthy of their
work. He saw himself in fancy standing at the high
45
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
altar of the cathedral in the fair raiment of a King,
and a smile played and lingered about his boyish
lips, and lit up with a bright luster his dark wood-
land eyes.
After some time he rose from his seat, and leaning
against the carved penthouse of the chimney, looked
round at the dimly-lit room. The walls were hung
with rich tapestries representing the Triumph of
Beauty. A large press, inlaid with agate and lapis-
lazuli, filled one corner, and facing the window stood
a curiously wrought cabinet with lacquer panels of
powdered and mosaicked gold, on which were placed
some delicate goblets of Venetian glass, and a cup
of dark-veined onyx. Pale poppies were broidered
on the silk coverlet of the bed, as though they had
fallen from the tired hands of sleep, and tall reeds
of fluted ivory bore up the velvet canopy, from which
great tufts of ostrich plumes sprang, like white foam,
to the pallid silver of the fretted ceiling. A laughing
Narcissus in green bronze held a polished mirror
above its head. On the table stood a flat bowl of
amethyst.
Outside he could see the huge dome of the
cathedral, looming like a bubble over the shadowy
houses, and the weary sentinels pacing up and down
on the misty terrace by the river. Far away, in an
orchard, a nightingale was singing. A faint per-
fume of jasmine came through the open window.
46
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
He brushed his brown curls back from his forehead,
and taking up a lute, let his fingers stray across the
cords. His heavy eyelids drooped, and a strange
languor came over him. Never before had he felt
so keenly, or with such exquisite joy, the magic and
the mystery of beautiful things.
When midnight sounded from the clock-tower he
touched a bell, and his pages entered and disrobed
him with much ceremony, pouring rose-water over
his hands, and strewing flowers on his pillow. A few
moments after that they had left the room, and he
fell asleep.
And as he slept he dreamed a dream, and this was
his dream.
He thought that he was standing in a long, low
attic, amidst the whirr and clatter of many looms.
The meager daylight peered in through the grated
windows, and showed him the gaunt figures of the
weavers bending over their cases. Pale, sickly-look-
ing children were crouched on the huge crossbeams.
As the shuttles dashed through the warp they lifted
up the heavy battens, and when the shuttles stopped
they let the battens fall and pressed the threads to-
gether. Their faces were pinched with famine, and
their thin hands shook and trembled. Some haggard
women were seated at a table sewing. A horrible
odor filled the place. The air was foul and heavy,
and the walls dripped and streamed with damp.
47
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
The young King went over to one of the weavers,
and stood by him and watched him.
And the weaver looked at him angrily, and said,
"Why art thou watching me? Art thou a spy set on
us by our master?"
"Who is thy master?" asked the young King.
"Our master!" cried the weaver, bitterly. "He
is a man like myself. Indeed, there is but this dif-
ference between us — that he wears fine clothes while
I go in rags, and that while I am weak from hunger
he suffers not a little from overfeeding."
"The land is free," said the young King, "and thou
art no man's slave."
"In war," answered the weaver, "the strong make
slaves of the weak, and in peace the rich make slaves
of the poor. We must work to live, and they give us
such mean wages that we die. We toil for them all
day long, and they heap up gold in their coffers, and
our children fade away before their time, and the
faces of those we love become hard and evil. We
tread out the grapes, another drinks the wine. We
sow the corn, and our own board is empty. We have
chains, though no eye beholds them; and are slaves,
though men call us free."
"Is it so with all?" he asked.
"It is so with all," answered the weaver, "with the
young as well as with the old, with the women as
well as with the men, with the little children as well
48
THE YOUNG KING
The young' king- went over to one of the weavers, stood by him
and watched him.
And the weaver looked at him angrily and said, "Why art
thou watching me. "
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
as with those who are stricken in years. The
merchants grind us down, and we must needs do their
bidding. The priest rides by and tells his beads, and
no man has care of us. Through our sunless lanes
creeps Poverty with her hungry eyes, and Sin with
his sodden face follows close behind her. Misery
wakes us in the morning, and Shame sits with us at
night. But what are these things to thee? Thou art
not one of us. Thy face is too happy." And he
turned away scowling, and threw the shuttle across
the loom, and the young King saw that it was
threaded with a thread of gold.
And a great terror seized upon him, and he said
to the weaver, "What robe is this that thou art weav-
ing?"
"It is the robe for the coronation of the young
King," he answered; "What is that to thee?"
And the young King gave a loud cry and woke,
and lo! he was in his own chamber, and through the
window he saw the great honey-colored moon hang-
ing in the dusky air.
And he fell asleep again and dreamed, and this
was his dream.
He thought that he was lying on the deck of a
huge galley that was being rowed by a hundred
slaves. On a carpet by his side the master of the
galley was seated. He was black as ebony, and his
turban was of crimson silk. Great earrings of silver
49
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
dragged down the thick lobes of his ears, and in his
hands he had a pair of ivory scales.
The slaves were naked, but for a ragged loin-
cloth, and each man was chained to his neighbor.
The hot sun beat brightly upon them, and the negroes
ran up and down the gangway and lashed them with
whips of hide. They stretched out their lean arms
and pulled the heavy oars through the water. The
salt spray flew from the blades.
At last they reached a little bay and began to take
soundings. A light wind blew from the shore, and
covered the deck and the great lateen sail with a fine
red dust. Three Arabs mounted on wild asses rode
out and threw spears at them. The master of the
galley took a painted bow in his hand and shot one
of them in the throat. He fell heavily into the surf,
and his companions galloped away. A woman
wrapped in a yellow veil followed slowly on a camel,
looking back now and then at the dead body.
As soon as they had cast anchor and hauled down
the sail, the negroes went into the hold and brought
up a long rope-ladder, heavily weighted with lead.
The master of the galley threw it over the side, mak-
ing the ends fast to two iron stanchions. Then the
negroes seized the youngest of the slaves, and knocked
his gyves off, and filled his nostrils and ears with wax,
and tied a big stone round his waist. He crept
wearily down the ladder, and disappeared into the
5o
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
sea. A few bubbles rose where he sank. Some of
the other slaves peered curiously over the side. At
the prow of the galley sat a shark charmer, beating
monotonously upon a drum.
After some time the diver rose up out of the water,
and clung panting to the ladder with a pearl in his
right hand. The negroes seized it from him, and
thrust him back. The slaves fell asleep over their
oars.
Again and again he came up, and each time that
he did so he brought with him a beautiful pearl.
The master of the galley weighed them, and put
them into a little bag of green leather.
The young King tried to speak, but his tongue
seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth, and his
lips refused to move. The negroes chattered to each
other, and began to quarrel over a string of bright
beads. Two cranes flew round and round the vessel.
Then the diver came up for the last time, and the
pearl that he brought with him was fairer than all
the pearls of Ormuz, for it was shaped like the full
moon, and whiter than the morning star. But his
face was strangely pale, and as he fell upon the deck
the blood gushed from his ears and nostrils. He
quivered for a little, and then he was still. The
negroes shrugged their shoulders, and threw the body
overboard.
And the master of the galley laughed, and, reach-
5i
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
ing out, he took the pearl, and when he saw it he
pressed it to his forehead and bowed. "It shall be,"
he said, "for the scepter of the young King," and he
made a sign to the negroes to draw up the anchor.
And when the young King heard this he gave a
great cry, and woke, and through the window he
saw the long, gray fingers of the dawn clutching at
the fading stars.
And he fell asleep again, and dreamed, and this
was the dream.
He thought that he was wandering through a dim
wood, hung with strange fruits and with beautiful
poisonous flowers. The adders hissed at him as he
went by, and the bright parrots flew screaming from
branch to branch. Huge tortoises lay asleep upon
the hot mud. The trees were full of apes and pea-
cocks.
On and on he went, till he reached the outskirts of
the wood, and there he saw an immense multitude of
men toiling in the bed of a dried-up river. They
swarmed up the crag like ants. They dug deep pits
in the ground and went down into them. Some of
them cleft the rocks with great axes; others grabbled
in the sand. They tore up the cactus by its roots, and
trampled on the scarlet blossoms. They hurried
about, calling to each other, and no man was idle.
From the darkness of a cavern Death and Avarice
52
THE YOUNG KING
Again and again he came up and each time he did so he brought
with him a beautiful pearl.
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
watched them, and Death said, "I am weary; give
me a third of them and let me go."
But Avarice shook her head. "They are my serv-
ants," she answered.
And Death said to her, "What hast thou in thy
hand?'
"I have three grains of corn," she answered;
"what is that to thee?"
"Give me one of them," cried Death, "to plant in
my garden; only one of them, and I will go away."
"I will not give thee anything," said Avarice, and
she hid her hand in the fold of her raiment.
And Death laughed, and took a cup, and dipped
it into a pool of water, and out of the cup rose
Ague. She passed through the great multitude, and
a third of them lay dead. A cold mist followed her,
and the water-snakes ran by her side.
And when Avarice saw that a third of the multi-
tude was dead she beat her breast and wept. She
beat her barren bosom, and cried aloud. "Thou hast
slain a third of my servants," she cried, "get thee
gone. There is war in the mountains of Tartary, and
the kings of each side are calling to thee. The
Afghans have slain the black ox, and are marching to
battle. They have beaten upon their shields with
their spears, and have put on their helmets of iron.
What is my valley to thee, that thou should'st tarry
in it? Get thee gone and come here no more."
53
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"Nay," answered Death, "but till thou hast given
me a grain of corn I will not go."
But Avarice shut her hand, and clenched her teeth.
"I will not give thee anything," she muttered.
And Death laughed, and took up a black stone, and
threw it into the forest, and out of a thicket of wild
hemlock came Fever in a robe of flame. She passed
through the multitude, and touched them, and each
man that she touched died. The grass withered be-
neath her feet as she walked.
And Avarice shuddered, and put ashes on her
head. "Thou art cruel," she cried; "thou art cruel.
There is famine in the walled cities of India, and the
cisterns of Samarcand have run dry. There is famine
in the walled cities of Egypt, and the locusts have
come up from the desert. The Nile has not over-
flowed its banks, and the priests have cursed Isis and
Osiris. Get thee gone to those who need thee, and
leave me my servants."
"Nay," answered Death, "but till thou hast given
me a grain of corn I will not go."
"I will not give thee anything," said Avarice.
And Death laughed again, and he whistled through
his fingers, and a woman came flying through the air.
Plague was written upon her forehead, and a crowd
of lean vultures wheeled round her. She covered the
valley with her wings, and no man was left alive.
And Avarice fled shrieking through the forest, and
54
THE YOUNG KING
And the pilgrim answered, "Look in this mirror, and thou shah see him?
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
Death leaped upon his red horse and galloped away,
and his galloping was faster than the wind.
And out of the slime at the bottom of the valley
crept dragons and horrible things with scales, and
the jackals came trotting along the sand, sniffing up
the air with their nostrils.
And the young King wept, and said: "Who were
these men, and for what were they seeking?"
"For rubies for a king's crown," answered one
who stood behind him.
And the young King started, and, turning round,
he saw a man habited as a pilgrim and holding in his
hand a mirror of silver.
And he grew pale, and said: "For what king?"
And the pilgrim answered: "Look in this mir-
ror, and thou shalt see him."
And he looked in the mirror, and, seeing his own
face, he gave a great cry and woke, and the bright
sunlight was streaming into the room, and from the
trees of the garden and pleasaunce the birds were
singing. And the Chamberlain and the high officers
of State came in and made obeisance to him, and the
pages brought him the robe of tissued gold, and set
the crown and the scepter before him.
And the young King looked at them, and they
were beautiful. More beautiful were they than
aught that he had ever seen. But he remembered his
55
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
dreams, and he said to his lords: "Take these things
away, for I will not wear them."
And the courtiers were amazed, and some of them
laughed, for they thought that he was jesting.
But he spake sternly to them again, and said:
"Take these things away and hide them from me.
Though it be the day of my coronation, I will not
wear them. For on the loom of Sorrow, and by the
white hands of Pain, has this my robe been woven.
There is Blood in the heart of the ruby, and Death in
the heart of the pearl." And he told them his three
dreams.
And when the courtiers heard them they looked at
each other and whispered, saying: "Surely he is
mad; for what is a dream but a dream, and a vision
but a vision? They are not real things that one
should heed them. And what have we to do with
the lives of those who toil for us? Shall a man not
eat bread till he has seen the sower, nor drink wine
till he has talked with the vine-dresser?"
And the Chamberlain spake to the young King,
and said, "My lord, I pray thee set aside these black
thoughts of thine, and put on this fair robe, and set
this crown upon thy head. For how shall the peo-
ple know that thou art a king, if thou hast not a king's
raiment?"
And the young King looked at him. "Is it so, in-
56
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
deed?" he questioned. "Will they not know me for
a king if I have not a king's raiment?"
"They will not know the?, my lord," cried the
Chamberlain.
"I had thought that there had been men who were
kinglike," he answered, "but it may be as thou sayest.
And yet I will not wear this robe, nor will I be
crowned with this crown, but even as I came to the
palace so will I go forth from it."
And he bade them all leave him, save one page
whom he kept as his companion, a lad a year younger
than himself. Him he kept for his service, and when
he had bathed himself in clear water, he opened a
great painted chest, and from it he took the leathern
tunic and rough sheepskin cloak that he had worn
when he had watched on the hillside the shaggy
goats of the goatherd. These he put on, and in his
hand he took his rude shepherd's staff.
And the little page opened his big blue eyes in
wonder, and said smiling to him, "My lord, I see thy
robe and thy scepter, but where is thy crown?"
And the young King plucked a spray of wild briar
that was climbing over the balcony, and bent it, and
made a circlet of it, and set it on his own head.
"This shall be my crown," he answered. And thus
attired he passed out of his chamber into the Great
Hall, where the nobles were waiting for him.
And the nobles made merry, and some of them
57
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
cried out to him, "My lord, the people wait for their
King, and thou showest them a beggar," and others
were wroth and said, "He brings shame upon our
state, and is unworthy to be our master." But he
answered them not a word, but passed on, and went
down the bright prophyry staircase, and out through
the gates of bronze, and mounted upon his horse, and
rode towards the cathedral, the little page running
beside him.
And the people laughed and said, "It is the King's
fool who is riding by," and they mocked him.
And he drew rein and said, "Nay, but I am the
King." And he told them his three dreams.
And a man came out of the crowd and spake bit-
terly to him, and said, "Sir, knowest thou not that
out of the luxury of the rich cometh the life of the
poor? By your pomp we are nurtured, and your
vices give us bread. To toil for a hard master is
bitter, but to have no master to toil for is more bitter
still. Thinkest thou that the ravens will feed us?
And what cure hast thou for these things? Wilt
thou say to the buyer, 'Thou shalt buy for so much,'
and to the seller, 'Thou shalt sell at this price?' I
trow not. Therefore go back to thy palace and put
on thy purple and fine linen. What hast thou to do
with us, and what we suffer?"
"Are not the rich and the poor brothers?" asked
the young King.
S8
THE YOUNG KING
Thus attired, he passed out of his chamber and into the Great
Hall where the nobles were waiting1 fur him.
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"Aye," answered the man, "and the name of the
rich brother is Cain."
And the young King's eyes filled with tears, and
he rode on through the murmurs of the people, and
the little page grew afraid and left him.
And when he reached the great portal of the cathe-
dral, the soldiers thrust their halberts out and said,
"What dost thou seek here? None enters by this
door but the King."
And his face flushed with anger, and he said to
them, "I am the King," and waved their halberts
aside and passed in.
And when the old Bishop saw him coming in his
goatherd's dress, he rose up in wonder from his
throne, and went to meet him, and said to him, "My
son, is this a king's apparel? And with what crown
shall I crown thee, and what scepter shall I place
in thy hand? Surely this should be to thee a day
of joy, and not a day of abasement."
"Shall Joy wear what Grief has fashioned?" said
the young King. And he told him his three dreams.
And when the Bishop had heard them he knit his
brows, and said, "My son, I am an old man, and in
the winter of my days, and I know that many evil
things are done in the wide world. The fierce robbers
come down from the mountains, and carry off the
little children, and sell them to the Moors. The
lions lie in wait for the caravans, and leap upon the
59
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
camels. The wild boar roots up the corn in the val-
ley, and the foxes gnaw the vines upon the hill. The
pirates lay waste the seacoast and burn the ships of
the fishermen, and take their nets from them. In
the salt-marshes live the lepers; they have houses
of wattled reeds, and none may come nigh them. The
beggars wander through the cities, and eat their food
with the dogs. Canst thou make these things not to
be? Wilt thou take the leper for thy bedfellow,
and set the beggar at thy board? Shall the lion do
thy bidding, and the wild boar obey thee? Is not
He who made misery wiser than thou art? Where-
fore I praise thee not for this that thou hast done,
but I bid thee ride back to the Palace and make thy
face glad, and put on the raiment that beseemeth a
king, and with the crown of gold I will crown thee,
and the scepter of pearl will I place in thy hand.
And as for thy dreams, think no more of them. The
burden of this world is too great for one man to
bear, and the world's sorrow too heavy for one heart
to suffer."
"Sayest thou that in this house?" said the young
King, and he strode past the Bishop, and climbed up
the steps of the altar, and stood before the image of
Christ.
He stood before the image of Christ, and on his
right hand and on his left were the marvelous ves-
sels of gold, the chalice with the yellow wine, and
60
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
the vial with the holy oil. He knelt before the image
of Christ, and the great candles burned brightly by
the jeweled shrine, and the smoke of the incense
curled in thin blue wreaths through the dome. He
bowed his head in prayer, and the priests in their
stiff copes crept away from the altar.
And suddenly a wild tumult came from the street
outside, and in entered the nobles with drawn swords
and nodding plumes, and shields of polished steel.
"Where is this dreamer of dreams?" they cried.
"Where is this King, who is appareled like a beg-
gar— this boy who brings shame upon our state?
Surely we will slay him, for he is unworthy to rule
over us."
And the young King bowed his head again, and
prayed, and when he had finished his prayer he rose
up, and turning round he looked at them sadly.
And lo! through the painted window came the sun-
light streaming upon him, and the sunbeams wove
round him a tissued robe that was fairer than the
robe that had been fashioned for his pleasure. The
dead staff blossomed, and bore lilies that were whiter
than pearls. The dry thorn blossomed, and bore
roses that were redder than rubies. Whiter than fine
pearls were the lilies, and their stems were of bright
silver. Redder than male rubies were the roses, and
their leaves were of beaten gold.
He stood there in the raiment of a king, and the
61
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
gates of the jeweled shrine flew open, and from the
crystal of the many-rayed monstrance shone a mar-
velous and mystical light. He stood there in a king's
raiment, and the Glory of God filled the place, and
the Saints in their carven niches seemed to move. In
the fair raiment of a king he stood before them, and
the organ pealed out its music, and the trumpeters
blew upon their trumpets, and the singing boys
sang.
And the people fell upon their knees in awe, and
the nobles sheathed their swords and did homage,
and the Bishop's face grew pale, and his hands trem-
bled. "A greater than I hath crowned thee," he cried,
and he knelt before him.
And the young King came down from the high
altar, and passed home through the midst of the peo-
ple. But no man dared look upon his face, for it
was like the face of an angel.
62
THE STAR-CHILD
THE STAR-CHILD
ONCE upon a time two poor Wood-cutters were
making their way home through a great pine-
forest. It was winter, and a night of bitter cold.
The snow lay thick upon the ground, and upon the
branches of the tree: the frost kept snapping the lit-
tle twigs on either side of them, as they passed: and
when they came to the Mountain-Torrent she was
hanging motionless in air, for the Ice-King had
kissed her.
So cold was it that even the animals and the birds
did not know what to make of it.
"Ugh!" snarled the Wolf, as he limped through
the brushwood with his tail between his legs, "this
is perfectly monstrous weather. Why doesn't the
Government look to it?"
"Weet! weet! weet!" twittered the green Linnets,
"the Old Earth is dead, and they have laid her out in
her white shroud."
"The Earth is going to u^ married, and this is her
bridal dress," Whispered the Turtle-doves to each
other. Their little pink feet were quite frost-bitten,
but they felt that it was their duty to take a romantic
view of the situation.
65
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"Nonsense!" growled the Wolf. "I tell you that
it is all the fault of the Government, and if you don't
believe me I shall eat you." The Wolf had a thor-
oughly practical mind, and was never at a loss for a
good argument.
"Well, for my own part," said the Woodpecker,
who was a born philosopher, "I don't care an atomic
theory for explanations. If a thing is so, it is so, and
at present it is terribly cold."
Terribly cold it certainly was. The little Squir-
rels, who lived inside the tall fir-tree, kept rubbing
each other's noses to keep themselves warm, and the
Rabbits curled themselves up in their holes, and did
not venture even to look out of doors. The only
people who seemed to enjoy it were the great horned
Owls. Their feathers were quite stiff with rime, but
they did not mind, and they rolled their large yel-
low eyes, and called out to each other across the for-
est, "Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! Tu-whit! Tu-whoo!
what delightful weather we are having!"
On and on went the two Woodcutters, blowing
lustily upon their fingers, and stamping with their
huge iron-shod boots upon the caked snow. Once
they sank into a deep drift, and came out as white as
millers are, when the stones are grinding; and once
they slipped on the hard smooth ice where the marsh-
water was frozen, and their faggots fell out of their
bundles and they had to pick them up and bind them
66
THE STAR CHILD
There fell from heaven a bright and beautiful star.
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
together again ; and once they thought that they had
lost their way, and a great terror seized on them, for
they knew that the Snow is cruel to those who sleep
in her arms. But they put their trust in the good
Saint Martin, who watches over all travelers, and
retraced their steps, and went warily, and at last they
reached the outskirts of the forest, and saw, far down
in the valley beneath them, the lights of the village
in which they dwelt.
So overjoyed were they at their deliverance that
they laughed aloud, and the Earth seemed to them
like a flower of silver, and the Moon like a flower
of gold.
Yet, after that they had laughed they became sad,
for they remembered their poverty, and one of them
said to the other, "Why did we make merry, seeing
that life is for the rich, and not for such as we are?
Better that we had died of cold in the forest, or that
some wild beast had fallen upon us and slain us."
"Truly," answered his companion, "much is given
to some, and little is given to others. Injustice has
parceled out the world, nor is there equal division of
aught save of sorrow."
But as they were bewailing their misery to each
other this strange thing happened. There fell from
heaven a very bright and beautiful star. It slipped
down the side of the sky, passing by the other stars
in its course, and, as they watched it wondering, it
67
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
seemed to them to sink behind a clump of willow-
trees that stood hard by a little sheepfold no more
than a stone's throw away.
"Why! there is a crock of gold for whoever finds
it," they cried, and they set to and ran, so eager were
they for the gold.
And one of them ran faster than his mate, and out-
stripped him, and forced his way through the wil-
lows, and came out on the other side, and lo! there
was indeed a thing of gold lying on the white snow.
So he hastened toward it, and stooping down placed
his hands upon it, and it was a cloak of golden tissue,
curiously wrought with stars, and wrapped in many
folds. And he cried out to his comrade that he had
found the treasure that had fallen from the sky, and
when his comrade had come up, they sat them down
in the snow, and loosened the folds of the cloak that
they might divide the pieces of gold. But, alas! no
gold was in it, nor silver, nor, indeed, treasure of any
kind, but only a little child who was asleep.
And one of them said to the other: "This is a bit-
ter ending to our hope, nor have we any good for-
tune, for what doth a child profit to a man? Let
us leave it here, and go our way, seeing that we are
poor men, and have children of our own whose bread
we may not give to another."
But his companion answered him: "Nay, but it
were an evil thing to leave the child to perish here
68
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
in the snow, and though I am as poor as thou art,
and have many mouths to feed, and but little in the
pot, yet will I bring it home with me, and my wife
shall have care of it."
So very tenderly he took up the child and wrapped
the cloak around it to shield it from the harsh cold,
and made his way down the hill to the village, his
comrade marveling much at his foolishness and soft-
ness of heart.
And when they came to the village, his comrade
said to him, "Thou hast the child, therefore give me
the cloak, for it is meet that we should share."
But he answered him: "Nay, for the cloak is
neither mine nor thine, but the child's only," and he
bade him Godspeed, and went to his own house and
knocked.
And when his wife opened the door and saw that
her husband had returned safe to her, she put her
arms round his neck and kissed him, and took from
his back the bundle of faggots, and brushed the snow
off his boots, and bade him come in.
But he said to her, "I have found something in
the forest, and I have brought it to thee to have care
of it," and he stirred not from the threshold.
"What is it?" she cried. "Show it to me, for the
house is bare, and we have need of many things."
And he drew the cloak back and showed her the
sleeping child.
69
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"Alack, goodman!" she murmured, "have we not
children enough of our own, that thou must needs
bring a changeling to sit by the hearth? And who
knows if it will not bring us bad fortune? And how
shall we tend it?" And she was wroth against him.
"Nay, but it is a Star-Child," he answered; and he
told her the strange manner of the finding of it.
But she would not be appeased, but mocked at
him, and spoke angrily, and cried: "Our children
lack bread, and shall we feed the child of another?
Who is there who careth for us? And who giveth us
food?"
"Nay, but God careth for the sparrows even, and
feedeth them," he answered.
"Do not the sparrows die of hunger in the winter?"
she asked. "And is it not winter now?" And the
man answered nothing, but stirred not from the
threshold.
And a bitter wind from the forest came in through
the open door, and made her tremble, and she quiv-
ered, and said to him: "Wilt thou not close the door?
There cometh a bitter wind into the house, and I am
cold."
"Into a house where a heart is hard cometh there
not always a bitter wind?" he asked. And the woman
answered him nothing, but crept closer to the fire.
And after a time she turned round and looked at
him, and her eyes were full of tears. And he came
70
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
in swiftly, and placed the child in her arms, and she
kissed it, and laid it in a little bed where the youngest
of their own children was lying. And on the morrow
the Woodcutter took the curious cloak of gold and
placed it in a great chest, and a chain of amber that
was round the child's neck his wife took and set it in
the chest also.
So the Star-Child was brought up with the chil-
dren of the Woodcutter, and sat at the same board with
them, and was their playmate. And every year he
became more beautiful to look at, so that all those
who dwelt in the village were filled with wonder,
for, while they were swarthy and black-haired, he
was white and delicate as sawn ivory, and his curls
were like the rings of the daffodil. His lips, also,
were like the petals of a red flower, and his eyes were
like violets by a river of pure water, and his body like
the narcissus of a field where the mower comes not.
Yet did his beauty work him evil. For he grew
proud, and cruel, and selfish. The children of the
Woodcutter, and the other children of the village,
he despised, saying that they were of mean parentage,
while he was noble, being sprung from a Star, and he
made himself master over them and called them his
servants. No pity had he for the poor, or for those
who were blind or maimed or in any way afflicted,
but would cast stones at them and drive them forth
7i
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
on to the highway, and bid them beg their bread else-
where, so that none save outlaws came twice to that
village to ask for alms. Indeed, he was as one
enamored of beauty, and would mock at the weakly
and ill-favored, and make jest of them; and himself
he loved, and in summer, when the winds were still,
he would lie by the well in the priest's orchard and
look down at the marvel of his own face, and laugh
for the pleasure he had in his fairness.
Often did the Woodcutter and his wife chide him,
and say: "We did not deal with thee as thou dealest
jvvith those who are left desolate, and have none to
succor them. Wherefore art thou so cruel to all who
need pity?"
Often did the old priest send for him, and seek to
teach him the love of living things, saying to him :
"The fly is thy brother. Do it no harm. The wild
birds that roam through the forest have their free-
dom. Snare them not for thy pleasure. God made
the blind-worm and the mole, and each has its place.
Who art thou to bring pain into God's world? Even
the cattle of the field praise him."
But the Star-Child heeded not their words, but
would frown and flout, and go back to his compan-
ions, and lead them. And his companions followed
him, for he was fair, and fleet of foot, and could
dance, and pipe, and make music. And wherever the
Star-Child led them they followed, and whatever the
72
THE STAR CHILD
But zohen he had reached the outskirts of the wood, he heard from a
thicket as of some one in pain.
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
Star-Child bade them do, that did they. And when
he pierced with a sharp reed the dim eyes of the mole,
they laughed, and when he cast stones at the leper
they laughed also. And in all things he ruled them,
and they became hard of heart, even as he was.
Now there passed one day through the village a
poor beggar-woman. Her garments were torn and
ragged, and her feet were bleeding from the rough
road on which she had traveled, and she was in very
evil plight. And being weary she sat her down un-
der a chestnut-tree to rest.
But when the Star-Child saw her, he said to his
companions, "See! There sitteth a foul beggar-
woman under that fair and green-leaved tree. Come,
let us drive her hence, for she is ugly and ill-
favored."
So he came near and threw stones at her, and
mocked her, and she looked at him with terror in
her eyes, nor did she move her gaze from him. And
when the Woodcutter, who was cleaving logs in a
haggard hard by, saw what the Star-Child was do-
ing, he ran up and rebuked him, and said to him:
"Surely thou art hard of heart, and knowest not
mercy, for what evil has this poor woman done to
thee that thou should'st treat her in this wise?"
And the Star-Child grew red with anger, and
stamped his foot upon the ground, and said, "Who
73
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
art thou to question me what I do? I am no son of
thine to do thy bidding."
"Thou speakest truly," answered the Woodcutter,
"yet did I show thee pity when I found thee in the
forest."
And when the woman heard these words she gave
a loud cry, and fell into a swoon. And the Wood-
cutter carried her to his own house, and his wife had
care of her, and when she rose up from the swoon
into which she had fallen, they set meat and drink
before her, and bade her have comfort.
But she would neither eat nor drink, but said to
the Woodcutter, "Didst thou not say that the child
was found in the forest? And was it not ten years
from this day?"
And the Woodcutter answered, "Yea, it was in the
forest that I found him, and it is ten years from this
day."
"And what signs didst thou find with him?" she
cried. "Bore he not upon his neck a chain of amber?
Was not round him a cloak of gold tissue broidered
with stars?"
"Truly," answered the Woodcutter, "it was even
as thou sayest.' And he took the cloak and the amber
chain from the chest where they lay, and showed
them to her.
And when she saw them she wept for joy, and said,
"He is my little son whom I lost in the forest. I
74
THE STAR CHILD
''Nay. but thou art indeed my little son, whom I bare in the forest",
she cried, and she fell on her lenees, and held out her arms to him.
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
pray thee send for him quickly, for in search of him
have I wandered over the whole world."
So the Woodcutter and his wife went out and
called to the Star-Child, and said to him, "Go into
the house, and there shalt thou find thy mother, who
is waiting for thee."
So he ran in, filled with wonder and great glad-
ness. But when he saw her who was waiting there,
he laughed scornfully and said, "Why, where is my
mother? For I see none here but this vile beggar-
woman."
And the woman answered him, "I am thy mother."
"Thou art mad to say so," cried the Star-Child
angrily. "I am no son of thine, for thou art a beg-
gar, and ugly, and in rags. Therefore get thee hence,
and let me see thy foul face no more."
"Nay, but thou art indeed my little son, whom I
bore in the forest," she cried, and she fell on her
knees, and held out her arms to him. "The robbers
stole thee from me, and left thee to die," she mur-
mured, "but I recognized thee when I saw thee, and
the signs also have I recognized, the cloak of golden
tissue and the amber chain. Therefore I pray thee
come with me, for over the whole world have I wan-
dered in search of thee. Come with me, my son,
for I have need of thy love."
But the Star-Child stirred not from his place, but
shut the doors of his heart against her, nor was there
75
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
any sound heard save the sound of the woman weep-
ing for pain.
And at last he spoke to her, and his voice was hard
and bitter. "If in very truth thou art my mother,"
he said, "it had been better hadst thou stayed away,
and not come here to bring me to shame, seeing that
I thought I was the child of some Star, and not a
beggar's child, as thou tellest me that I am. There-
fore get thee hence, and let me see thee no more."
"Alas! my son," she cried, "wilt thou not kiss me
before I go? For I have suffered much to find
thee."
"Nay," said the Star-Child, "but thou art too foul
to look at, and rather would I kiss the adder or the
toad than thee."
So the woman rose up, and went away into the
forest weeping bitterly, and when the Star-Child saw
that she had gone, he was glad, and ran back to his
playmates that he might play with them.
But when they beheld him coming, they mocked
him and said, "Why thou art as foul as the toad, and
as loathsome as the adder. Get thee hence, for we
will not suffer thee to play with us," and they drave
him out of the garden.
And the Star-Child frowned and said to himself,
"What is this that they say to me? I will go to the
well of water and look into it, and it shall tell me of
my beauty."
76
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
So he went to the well of water and looked into it,
and lo! his face was as the face of a toad, and his body
was scaled like an adder. And he flung himself down
on the grass and wept, and said to himself, "Surely
this has come upon me by reason of my sin. For I
have denied my mother, and driven her away, and
been proud, and cruel to her. Wherefore I will go
and seek her through the whole world, nor will I
rest till I have found her."
And there came to him the little daughter of the
Woodcutter, and she put her hand upon his shoulder
and said, "What does it matter if thou hast lost thy
comeliness? Stay with us, and I will not mock at
thee."
And he said to her, "Nay, but I have been cruel
to my mother, and as a punishment has this evil been
sent to me. Wherefore I must go hence, and wander
through the world till I find her, and she give me her
forgiveness."
So he ran away into the forest and called out to
his mother to come to him, but there was no answer.
All day long he called to her, and when the sun set
he lay down to sleep on a bed of leaves, and the birds
and the animals fled from him, for they remembered
his cruelty, and he was alone save for the toad that
watched him, and the slow adder that crawled past.
And in the morning he rose up, and plucked some
bitter berries from the trees and ate them, and took
77
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
his way through the great wood, weeping sorely.
And of everything that he met he made inquiry if
perchance they had seen his mother.
He said to the Mole, "Thou canst go beneath the
earth. Tell me, is my mother there?"
And the Mole answered, "Thou hast blinded mine
eyes. How should I know?"
He said to the Linnet, "Thou canst fly over the
tops of the tall trees, and canst see the whole world.
Tell me, canst thou see my mother?"
And the Linnet answered, "Thou hast dipt my
wings for thy pleasure. How should I fly?"
And to the little Squirrel who lived in the fir-tree,
and was lonely, he said, "Where is my mother?"
And the Squirrel answered, "Thou hast slain mine.
Dost thou seek to slay thine also?"
And the Star-Child wept and bowed his head and
prayed forgiveness of God's things, and went on
through the forest, seeking for the beggar-woman.
And on the third day he came to the other side of
the forest and went down into the plain.
And when he passed through the villages the chil-
dren mocked him, and threw stones at him, and the
carlots would not suffer him to sleep in the byres lest
he might bring mildew on the stored corn, so foul
was he to look at, and their hired men drave him
away, and there was none who had pity on him. Nor
could he hear anywhere of the beggar-woman who
78
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
was his mother, though for the space of three years
he wandered over the world, and often seemed to
see her on the road in front of him, and would call
to her, and run after her till the sharp flints made his
feet to bleed. But overtake her he could not, and
those who dwelt by the way did ever deny that they
had seen her, or any like to her, and they made sport
of his sorrow.
For the space of three years he wandered over
the world, and in the world there was neither love
nor loving-kindness nor charity for him, but it was
even such a world as he had made for himself in the
days of his great pride.
And one evening he came to the gate of a strong-
walled city that stood by a river, and, weary and foot-
sore though he was, he made to enter in. But the
soldiers who stood on guard dropped their halberts
across the entrance, and said roughly to him, "What
is thy business in the city?"
"I am seeking for my mother," he answered, "and
I pray ye to suffer me to pass, for it may be that she
is in this city."
But they mocked at him, and one of them wagged
a black beard, and set down his shield and cried,
"Of a truth, thy mother will not be merry when
she sees thee, for thou art more ill-favored than
the toad of the marsh, or the adder that crawls in the
79
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
fen. Get thee gone. Get thee gone. Thy mother
dwells not in this city."
And another, who held a yellow banner in his
hand, said to him, "Who is thy mother, and where-
fore art thou seeking for her?"
And he answered, "My mother is a beggar even as
I am, and I have treated her evilly, and I pray ye to
suffer me to pass that she may give me her forgive-
ness, if it be that she tarrieth in this city." But they
would not, and pricked him with their spears.
And, as he turned away weeping, one whose armor
was inlaid with gilt flowers, and on whose helmet
couched a lion that had wings, came up and made
inquiry of the soldiers who it was who had sought
entrance. And they said to him, "It is a beggar and
the child of a beggar, and we have driven him away."
"Nay," he cried, laughing, "but we will sell the
foul thing for a slave, and his price shall be the price
of a bowl of sweet wine."
And an old and evil-visaged man who was pass-
ing by called out, and said, "I will buy him for that
price," and, when he had paid the price, he took the
Star-Child by the hand and led him into the city.
And after that they had gone through many streets
they came to a little door that was set in a wall that
was covered with a pomegranate tree. And the old
man touched the door with a ring of graved jasper
and it opened, and they went down five steps of brass
80
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
into a garden filled with black poppies and jars of
burnt clay. And the old man took then from his
turban a scarf of figured silk, and bound with it the
eyes of the Star-Child, and drave him in front of
him. And when the scarf was taken off his eyes,
the Star-Child found himself in a dungeon, that was
lit by a lantern of horn.
And the old man set before him some moldy bread
on a trencher and said, "Eat," and some brackish wa-
ter in a cup and said, "Drink," and when he had
eaten and drunk, the old man went out, locking the
door behind him and fastening it with an iron chain.
And on the morrow the old man, who was indeed
the subtlest of the magicians of Libya and had
learned his art from one who dwelt in the tombs of
the Nile, came in to him and frowned at him, and
said, "In a wood that is nigh to the gate of this city
of Giaours there are three pieces of gold. One is of
white gold, and another is of yellow gold, and the
gold of the third one is red. To-day thou shalt bring
me the piece of white gold, and if thou bringest
it not back, I will beat thee with a hundred stripes.
Get thee away quickly, and at sunset I will be wait-
ing for thee at the door of the garden. See that thou
bringest the white gold, or it shall go ill with thee,
for thou art my slave, and I have bought thee for the
price of a bowl of sweet wine." And he bound the
81
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
eyes of the Star-Child with the scarf of figured silk,
and led him through the house, and through the gar-
den of poppies, and up the five steps of brass. And
having opened the little door with his ring he set
him in the street.
And the Star-Child went out of the gate of the city,
and came to the wood of which the Magician had
spoken to him.
Now this wood was very fair to look at from with-
out, and seemed full of singing birds and of sweet-
scented flowers, and the Star-Child entered it gladly.
Yet did its beauty profit him little, for wherever he
went harsh briars and thorns shot up from the ground
and encompassed him, and evil nettles stung him,
and the thistle pierced him with her daggers, so that
he was in sore distress. Nor could he anywhere find
the piece of white gold of which the Magician had
spoken, though he sought for it from morn to noon,
and from noon to sunset. And at sunset he set his
face towards home, weeping bitterly, for he knew
what fate was in store for him.
But when he had reached the outskirts of the
wood, he heard from a thicket a cry as of some one
in pain. And forgetting his own sorrow he ran back
to the place, and saw there a little Hare caught in
a trap that some hunter had set for it.
And the Star-Child had pity on it, and released
82
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
it, and said to it, "I am myself but a slave, yet may
I give thee thy freedom?"
And the Hare answered him, and said: "Surely
thou hast given me freedom, and what shall I give
thee in return?"
And the Star-Child said to it, "I am seeking for
a piece of white gold, nor can I anywhere find it, and
if I bring it not to my master he will beat me."
"Come thou with me," said the Hare, "and I will
lead thee to it, for I know where it is hidden, and
for what purpose."
So the Star-Child went with the Hare, and lo!
in the cleft of a great oak-tree he saw the piece of
white gold that he was seeking. And he was filled
with joy, and seized it, and said to the Hare, "The
service that I did to thee thou hast rendered back
again many times over, and the kindness that I
showed thee thou hast repaid a hundred-fold."
"Nay," answered the Hare, "but as thou dealt with
me, so I did deal with thee," and it ran away quickly,
and the Star-Child went towards the city.
Now at the gate of the city there was seated one
who was a leper. Over his face hung a cowl of gray
linen, and through the eyelets his eyes gleamed like
red coals. And when he saw the Star-Child coming,
he struck upon a wooden bowl, and clattered his bell,
and called out to him, and said, "Give me a piece of
money, or I must die of hunger. For they have thrust
83
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
me out of the city, and there is no one who has pity
on me."
"Alas!" cried the Star-Child, "I have but one piece
of money in my wallet, and if I bring it not to my
master he will beat me, for I am his slave."
But the leper entreated him, and prayed of him,
till the Star-Child had pity, and gave him the piece
of white gold.
And when he came to the Magician's house, the
Magician opened to him, and brought him in, and
said to him, "Hast thou the piece of white gold?"
and the Star-Child answered, "I have it not." So
the Magician fell upon him, and beat him, and set
before him an empty trencher, and said, "Eat," and
an empty cup, and said, "Drink," and flung him
again into the dungeon.
And on the morrow the Magician came to him,
and said, "If to-day thou bringest me not the piece
of yellow gold, I will surely keep thee as my slave,
and give thee three hundred stripes."
So the Star-Child went to the wood, and all day
long he searched for the piece of yellow gold, but
nowhere could he find it. And at sunset he sat him
down and began to weep, and as he was weeping
there came to him the little Hare that he had rescued
from the trap.
And the Hare said to him, "Why art thou weep-
ing? And what dost thou seek in the wood?"
84
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
And the Star-Child answered, "I am seeking for
a piece of yellow gold that is hidden here, and if I
find it not my master will beat me, and keep me as
a slave."
"Follow me," cried the Hare, and it ran through
the wood till it came to a pool of water. And at
the bottom of the pool the piece of yellow gold was
lying-
"How shall I thank thee?" said the Star-Child,
"for lo! this is the second time that you have suc-
cored me."
"Nay, but thou hadst pity on me first," said the
Hare, and it ran away swiftly.
And the Star-Child took the piece of yellow gold,
and put it in his wallet, and hurried to the city. But
the leper saw him coming, and ran to meet him, and
knelt down and cried, "Give me a piece of money or
I shall die of hunger."
And the Star-Child said to him, "I have in my
wallet but one piece of yellow gold, and if I bring
it not to my master he will beat me and keep me as his
slave."
But the leper entreated him sore, so that the Star-
Child had pity on him, and gave him the piece of
yellow gold.
And when he came to the Magician's house, the
Magician opened to him and brought him in, and
said to him, "Hast thou the piece of yellow gold?"
85
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
And the Star-Child said to him, "I have it not." So
the Magician fell upon him, and beat him, and
loaded him with chains, and cast him again into the
dungeon.
And on the morrow the Magician came to him,
and said, "If to-day thou bringest me the piece of
red gold I will set thee free, but if thou bringest it
not I will surely slay thee."
So the Star-Child went to the wood, and all day
long he searched for the piece of red gold, but no-
where could he find it. And at evening he sat him
down, and wept, and as he was weeping there came
to him the little Hare.
And the Hare said to him, "The piece of red gold
that thou seekest is in the cavern that is behind thee.
Therefore weep no more but be glad."
"How shall I reward thee," cried the Star-Child,
"for lo! this is the third time thou hast succored me."
"Nay, but thou hadst pity on me first," said the
Hare, and it ran away swiftly.
And the Star-Child entered the cavern, and in its
farthest corner he found the piece of red gold. So
he put it in his wallet, and hurried to the city. And
the leper seeing him coming, stood in the center of
the road, and cried out, and said to him, "Give me
the piece of red money, or I must die," and the Star-
Child had pity on him again, and gave him the piece
of red gold, saying, "Thy need is greater than mine."
86
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
Yet was his heart heavy, for he knew what evil fate
awaited him.
But lo! as he passed through the gate of the city,
the guards bowed down and made obeisance to him,
saying, "How beautiful is our lord!" and a crowd
of citizens followed him, and cried out, "Surely
there is none so beautiful in the whole world!" so
that the Star-Child wept, and said to himself, "They
are mocking me, and making light of my misery."
And so large was the concourse of the people, that
he lost the threads of his way, and found himself at
last in a great square, in which there was a palace
of a King.
And the gate of the palace opened, and the priests
and the high officers of the city ran forth to meet
him, and they abased themselves before him, and
said, "Thou art our lord for whom we have been
waiting, and the son of our King."
And the Star-Child answered them and said, "I
am no king's son, but the child of a poor beggar-
woman. And how say ye that I am beautiful, for
I know that I am evil to look at?"
Then he, whose armor was inlaid with gilt flowers,
and on whose helmet couched a lion that had wings,
held up a shield, and cried, "How saith my lord
that he is not beautiful?"
And the Star-Child looked, and lo! his face was
even as it had been, and his comeliness had come
87
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
back to him, and he saw that in his eyes which he
had not seen there before.
And the priests and the high officers knelt down
and said to him, "It was prophesied of old that on
this day should come he who was to rule over us.
Therefore, let our lord take this crown and this scep-
ter, and be in his justice and mercy our King over
us."
But he said to them, "I am not worthy, for I have
denied the mother who bare me, nor may I rest till
I have found her, and known her forgiveness.
Therefore, let me go, for I must wander again over
the world, and may not tarry here, though ye bring
me the crown and the scepter." And as he spake he
turned his face from them towards the street that led
to the gate of the city, and lo! amongst the crowd that
pressed round the soldiers, he saw the beggar-woman
who was his mother, and at her side stood the leper,
who had sat by the road.
And a cry of joy broke from his lips, and he ran
over, and kneeling down he kissed the wounds on his
mother's feet, and wet them with his tears. He
bowed his head in the dust, and sobbing, as one whose
heart might break, he said to her: "Mother, I denied
thee in the hour of my pride. Accept me in the hour
of my humility. Mother, I gave thee hatred. Do
thou give me love. Mother, I rejected thee. Re-
88
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
ceive thy child now." But the beggar-woman an-
swered him not a word.
And he reached out his hands, and clasped the
white feet of the leper, and said to him: "Thrice did
I give thee of my mercy. Bid my mother speak to
me once." But the leper answered him not a word.
And he sobbed again, and said: "Mother, my suf-
fering is greater than I can bear. Give me thy for-
giveness, and let me go back to the forest." And the
beggar-woman put her hand on his head, and said
to him, "Rise," and the leper put his hand on his
head, and said to him "Rise," also.
And he rose up from his feet, and looked at them,
and lo! they were a King and a Queen.
And the Queen said to him, "This is thy father
whom thou hast succored."
And the King said, "This is thy mother, whose
feet thou hast washed with thy tears."
And they fell on his neck and kissed him, and
brought him into the palace, and clothed him in fair
raiment, and set the crown upon his head, and the
scepter in his hand, and over the city that stood by
the river he ruled, and was its lord. Much justice
and mercy did he show to all, and the evil Magician
he banished, and to the Woodcutter and his wife he
sent many rich gifts, and to their children he gave
high honor. Nor would he suffer any to be cruel
to bird or beast, but taught love and loving-kindness
89
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
and charity, and to the poor he gave bread, and to
the naked he gave raiment, and there was peace and
plenty in the land.
Yet ruled he not long, so great had been his suf-
fering, and so bitter the fire of his testing, for after
the space of three years he died. And he who came
after him ruled evilly.
90
THE FISHERMAN AND HIS SOUL
THE FISHERMAN AND HIS SOUL
EVERY evening the young Fisherman went out
upon the sea, and threw his nets into the water.
When the wind blew from the land he caught
nothing, or but little at best, for it was a bitter and
blackwinged wind, and rough waves rose up to meet
it. But when the wind blew to the shore, the fish
came in from the deep, and swam into the meshes
of his nets, and he took them to the market-place and
sold them.
Every evening he went out upon the sea, and one
evening the net was so heavy that hardly could he
draw it into the boat. And he laughed, and said to
himself, "Surely I have caught all the fish that swim,
or snared some dull monster that will be a marvel
to men, or some thing of horror that the great Queen
will desire," and putting forth all his strength, he
tugged at the coarse ropes till, like lines of blue
enamel round a vase of bronze, the long veins rose
up on his arms. He tugged at the thin ropes, and
nearer and nearer came the circle of flat corks, and
the net rose at last to the top of the water.
But no fish at all was in it, nor any monster or
93
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
thing of horror, but only a little mermaid lying fast
asleep.
Her hair was as a wet fleece of gold, and each
separate hair as a thread of fine gold in a cup of glass.
Her body was as white ivory, and her tail was of
silver and pearl. Silver and pearl was her tail, and
the green weeds of the sea coiled round it; and like
sea-shells were her ears, and her lips were like sea-
coral. The cold waves dashed over her cold breasts,
and the salt glistened upon her eyelids.
So beautiful was she that when the young Fisher-
man saw her he was filled with wonder, and he put
out his hand and drew the net close to him, and lean-
ing over the side he clasped her in his arms. And
when he touched her, she gave a cry like a startled
sea-gull and woke, and looked at him in terror with
her mauve-amethyst eyes, and struggled that she
might escape. But he held her tightly to him, and
would not suffer her to depart.
And when she saw that she could in no way escape
from him, she began to weep, and said, "I pray thee
let me go, for I am the only daughter of a King, and
my father is aged and alone."
But the young Fisherman answered, "I will not let
thee go save thou makest me a promise that whenever
I call thee, thou wilt come and sing to me, for the
fish delight to listen to the song of the Sea-folk, and
so shall my nets be full."
94
THE FISHERMAN AND HIS SOUL
'I pray thee let me go, for I am the only daughter of a
King, and my father is aged and alone. ' '
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"Wilt thou in very truth let me go, if I promise
thee this?" cried the Mermaid.
"In very truth I will let thee go," said the young
Fisherman.
So she made him the promise he desired, and
sware it by the oath of the Sea-folk. And he loos-
ened his arms from about her, and she sank down
into the water, trembling with a strange fear.
Every evening the young Fisherman went out
upon the sea, and called to the Mermaid, and she
rose out of the water and sang to him. Round and
round her swam the dolphins, and the wild gulls
wheeled above her head.
And she sang a marvelous song. For she sang of
the Sea-folk who drive their flocks from cave to cave,
and carry the little calves on their shoulders; of the
Tritons who have long green beards, and hairy
breasts, and blow through twisted conchs when the
King passes by; of the palace of the King which is
all of amber, with a roof of clear emerald, and a
pavement of bright pearl; and of the gardens of the
sea where the great filigrane fans of coral wave all
day long, and the fish dart about like silver birds, and
the anemones cling to the rocks, and the pinks
bourgeon in the ribbed yellow sand. She sang of
the big whales that come down from the north seas
and have sharp icicles hanging to their fins; of the
95
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
Sirens who tell of such wonderful things that the
merchants have to stop their ears with wax lest they
should hear them, and leap into the water and be
drowned; of the sunken galleys with their tall masts,
and the frozen sailors clinging to the rigging, and
the mackerel swimming in and out of the open port-
holes; of the little barnacles who are great travelers,
and cling to the keels of the ships and go round and
round the world; and of the cuttle-fish who live in
the sides of the cliffs and stretch out their long black
arms, and can make night come when they will it.
She sang of the nautilus who has a boat of her own
that is carved out of an opal and steered with a silken
sail; of the happy Mermen who play upon harps and
can charm the great Kraken to sleep; of the little
children who catch hold of the slippery porpoises
and ride laughing upon their backs ; of the Mermaids
who lie in the white foam and hold out their arms
to the mariners ; and of the sea-lions with their curved
tusks and the sea-horses with their floating manes.
And as she sang, all the tunny-fish came in from
the deep to listen to her, and the young Fisherman
threw his nets round them and caught them, and
others he took with a spear. And when his boat was
well laden, the Mermaid would sink down into the
sea, smiling at him.
Yet would she never come near him that he might
touch her. Oftentimes he called to her, and prayed
96
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
of her, but she would not; and when he sought to
seize her she dived into the water as a seal might
dive, nor did he see her again that day. And each
day the sound of her voice became sweeter to his ears.
So sweet was her voice that he forgot his nets and
his cunning, and had no care of his craft. Vermilion-
finned and with eyes of bossy gold, the tunnies went
by in shoals, but he heeded them not. His spear lay
by his side unused, and his baskets of plaited osier
were empty. With lips parted, and eyes dim with
wonder, he sat idly in his boat and listened, listening
till the sea-mists crept round him, and the wandering
moon stained his brown limbs with silver.
And one evening he called to her, and said: "Lit-
tle Mermaid, little Mermaid, I love thee. Take me
for thy bridegroom, for I love thee."
But the Mermaid shook her head. "Thou hast a
human soul," she answered. "If only thou would'st
send away thy soul, then could I love thee."
And the young Fisherman said to himself, "Of
what use is my soul to me? I cannot see it. I may
not touch it. I do not know it. Surely I will send
it away from me, and much gladness shall be mine."
And a cry of joy broke from his lips, and standing
up in the painted boat, he held out his arms to the
Mermaid. "I will send my soul away," he cried,
"and you shall be my bride, and I will be thy bride-
groom, and in the depth of the sea we will dwell
97
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
together, and all that thou hast sung of thou shalt
show me, and all that thou desirest I will do, nor
shall our lives be divided."
And the little Mermaid laughed for pleasure, and
hid her face in her hands.
"But how shall I send my soul from me?" cried
the young Fisherman. "Tell me how I may do it,
and lo! it shall be done."
"Alas! I know not," said the little Mermaid: "the
Sea-folk have no souls." And she sank down into the
deep, looking wistfully at him.
Now early on the next morning, before the sun
was the span of a man's hand above the hill, the
young Fisherman went to the house of the Priest and
knocked three times at the door.
The novice looked out through the wicket, and
when he saw who it was, he drew back the latch and
said to him, "Enter."
And the young Fisherman passed in, and knelt
down on the sweet-smelling rushes of the floor, and
cried to the Priest who was reading out of the Holy
Book and said to him, "Father, I am in love with
one of the Sea-folk, and my soul hindereth me from
having my desire. Tell me how I can send my soul
away from me, for in truth I have no need of it. Of
what value is my soul to me? I cannot see it. I may
not touch it. I do not know it."
And the Priest beat his breast, and answered,
98
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"Alack, Alack, thou art mad, or hast eaten some poi-
sonous herb, for the soul is the noblest part of man,
and was given to us by God that we should nobly use
it. There is no thing more precious than a human
soul, nor any earthly thing that can be weighted with
it. It is worth all the gold that is in the world, and
is more precious than the rubies of the kings. There-
fore, my son, think not any more of this matter, for
it is a sin that may not be forgiven. And as for the
Sea-folk, they are lost, and they who would traffic
with them are lost also. They are as the beasts of
the field that know not good from evil, and for them
the Lord has not died."
The young Fisherman's eyes filled with tears when
he heard the bitter words of the Priest, and he rose
up from his knees and said to him, "Father, the
Fauns live in the forest and are glad, and on the rocks
sit the Mermen with their harps of red gold. Let me
be as they are, I beseech thee, for their days are as
the days of flowers, and as for my soul, what doth my
soul profit me, if it stand between me and the thing
that I love?"
"The love of the body is vile," cried the Priest,
knitting his brows, "and vile and evil are the pagan
things God suffers to wander through His world.
Accursed be the Fauns of the woodland, and ac-
cursed be the singers of the sea! I have heard them
at night-time, and they have sought to lure me from
99
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
my beads. They tap at the window, and laugh.
They whisper into my ears the tale of their perilous
joys. They tempt me with temptations, and when I
would pray they make mouths at me. They are lost,
I tell thee, they are lost. For them there is no heaven
nor hell, and in neither shall they praise God's
name."
"Father,' cried the young Fisherman, "thou know-
est not what thou sayest. Once in my net I snared the
daughter of a King. She is fairer than the morning
star, and whiter than the moon. For her body I
would give my soul, and for her love I would sur-
render heaven. Tell me what I ask of thee, and let
me go in peace."
"Away! away!" cried the Priest: "thy leman is
lost, and thou shalt be lost with her." And he gave
him no blessing, but drove him from his door.
And the young Fisherman went down into the
market-place, and he walked slowly, and with bowed
head, as one who is in sorrow.
And when the merchants saw him coming, they
began to whisper to each other, and one of them
came forth to meet him, and called him by name,
and said to him, "What hast thou to sell?"
"I will sell thee my soul," he answered: "I pray
thee buy it off me, for I am weary of it. Of what
use is my soul to me? I cannot see it. I may not
touch it. I do not know it."
ioo
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
But the merchants mocked at him, and said, "Of
what use is a man's soul to us? It is not worth a
clipped piece of silver. Sell us thy body for a slave,
and we will clothe thee in sea-purple, and put a ring
upon thy finger, and make thee the minion of the
great Queen. But talk not of the soul, for to us it
is nought, nor has it any value for our service."
And the young Fisherman said to himself: "How
strange a thing this is! The Priest telleth me that
the soul is worth all the gold in the world, and the
merchants say that it is not worth a clipped piece of
silver." And he passed out of the market-place, and
went down to the shore of the sea, and began to pon-
der on what he should do.
And at noon he remembered how one of his com-
panions, who was a gatherer of samphire, had told
him of a certain young Witch who dwelt in a cave
at the head of the bay and was very cunning in her
witcheries. And he set to and ran, so eager was he
to get rid of his soul, and a cloud of dust followed
him as he sped round the sand of the shore. By the
itching of her palm the young Witch knew his com-
ing, and she laughed and let down her red hair. With
her red hair falling around her, she stood at the
opening of the cave, and in her hand she had a spray
of wild hemlock that was blossoming.
"What d'ye lack? What d'ye lack?" she cried, as
IOI
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
he came panting up the steep, and bent down before
her. "Fish for thy net, when the wind is foul? I
have a little reed-pipe, and when I blow on it the
mullet come sailing into the bay. But it has a price,
pretty boy, it has a price. What d'ye lack? What
d'ye lack? A storm to wreck the ships, and wash
the chests of rich treasure ashore? I have more
storms than the wind has, for I serve one who is
stronger than the wind, and with a sieve and a pail
of water I can send the great galleys to the bottom
of the sea. But I have a price, pretty boy, I have
a price. What d'ye lack? What d'ye lack? I know
a flower that grows in the valley, none knows it but
I. It has purple leaves, and a star in its heart, and
its juice is as white as milk. Should'st thou touch
with this flower the hard lips of the Queen, she
would follow thee all over the world. Out of the
bed of the King she would rise, and over the whole
world she would follow thee. And it has a price,
pretty boy, it has a price. What d'ye lack? What
d'ye lack? I can pound a toad in a mortar, and make
broth of it and stir the broth with a dead man's hand.
Sprinkle it on thine enemy while he sleeps, and he
will turn into a black viper, and his own mother will
slay him. With a wheel I can draw the Moon from
heaven, and in a crystal I can show thee Death. What
d'ye lack? What d'ye lack? Tell me thy desire, and
102
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
I will give it thee, and thou shalt pay me a price,
pretty boy, thou shalt pay me a price."
"My desire is but for a little thing," said the young
Fisherman, "yet hath the priest been wroth with me,
and driven me forth. It is but for a little thing, and
the merchants have mocked at me, and denied me.
Therefore am I come to thee, though men call thee
evil, and whatever be thy price I shall pay it."
"What would'st thou?" asked the Witch, coming
near to him.
"I would send my soul away from me," answered
the young Fisherman.
The Witch grew pale and shuddered, and hid her
face in her blue mantle. "Pretty boy, pretty boy,"
she muttered, "that is a terrible thing to do."
He tossed his brown curls and laughed. "My soul
is nought to me," he answered. "I cannot see it. I
may not touch it. I do not know it."
"What wilt thou give me if I tell thee?" asked the
Witch, looking down at him with her beautiful eyes.
"Five pieces of gold," he said, "and my nets, and
the wattled house where I live, and the painted boat
in which I sail. Only tell me how to get rid of my
soul, and I will give thee all that I possess."
She laughed mockingly at him, and struck him
with the spray of hemlock. "I can turn the autumn
leaves into gold," she answered, "and I can weave
the pale moonbeams into silver if I will it. He
103
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
whom I serve is richer than all the kings of this
world and has their dominions."
"What then shall I give thee," he cried, "if thy
price be neither gold nor silver?"
The Witch stroked his hair with her thin white
hand. "Thou must dance with me, pretty boy," she
murmured, and she smiled at him as she spoke.
"Nought but that?" cried the young Fisherman in
wonder, and he rose to his feet.
"Nought but that," she answered, and she smiled
at him again.
"Then at sunset in some secret place we shall dance
together," he said, "and after that we have danced
thou shalt tell me the thing which I desire to know."
She shook her head. "When the moon is full,
when the moon is full," she muttered. Then she
peered all round, and listened. A blue bird rose
screaming from its nest and circled over the dunes,
and three spotted birds rustled through the coarse
gray grass, and whistled to each other. There was
no other sound save the sound of a wave fretting the
smooth pebbles below. So she reached out her hand,
and drew him near to her and put her dry lips close
to his ear.
"To-night thou must come to the top of the moun-
tain," she whispered, "It is a Sabbath, and He will
be there."
The young Fisherman started and looked at her,
104
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
and she showed her white teeth and laughed. "Who
is He of whom thou speakest?" he asked.
"It matters not," she answered. "Go thou to-night,
and stand under the branches of the hornbeam, and
wait for my coming. If a black dog run towards
thee, strike it with a rod of willow, and it will go
away. If an owl speak to thee, make it no answer.
When the moon is full I shall be with thee, and we
will dance together on the grass."
"But wilt thou swear to me to tell me how I may
send my soul from me?" he made question.
She moved out into the sunlight, and through her
red hair rippled the wind. "By the hoofs of the goat
I swear it," she made answer.
"Thou art the best of the witches," cried the young
Fisherman, "and I will surely dance with thee to-
night on the top of the mountain. I would indeed
that thou hadst asked of me either gold or silver. But
such as thy price is thou shalt have it, for it is but a
little thing." And he doffed his cap to her, and bent
his head low, and ran back to the town filled with a
great joy.
And the Witch watched him as he went, and when
he had passed from her sight she entered her cave,
and having taken a mirror from a box of carved
cedarwood, she set it up on a frame, and burned
vervain on lighted charcoal before it, and peered
through the coils of the smoke. And after a time
105
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
she clenched her hands in anger. "He should have
been mine," she muttered, "I am as fair as she is."
And that evening, when the moon had risen, the
young Fisherman climbed up to the top of the moun-
tain, and stood under the branches of the hornbeam.
Like a targe of polished metal the round sea lay at
his feet, and the shadows of the fishing boats moved
in the little bay. A great owl, with yellow sulphur-
ous eyes, called to him by his name, but he made it
no answer. A black dog ran towards him and
snarled. He struck it with a rod of willow, and it
went away whining.
At midnight the witches came flying through the
air like bats. "Phew!" they cried, as they lit upon
the ground, "there is some one here we know not!"
and they sniffed about, and chattered to each other,
and made signs. Last of all came the young Witch,
with her red hair streaming in the wind. She wore
a dress of gold tissue embroidered with peacock's
eyes, and a little cap of green velvet was on her head.
"Where is he, where is he?" shrieked the witches
when they saw her, but she only laughed, and ran to
the hornbeam, and taking the Fisherman by the hand
she led him out into the moonlight and began to
dance.
Round and round they whirled, and the young
Witch jumped so high that he could see the scarlet
1 06
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
heels of her shoes. Then right across the dancers
came the sound of the galloping of a horse, but no
horse was to be seen, and he felt afraid.
"Faster," cried the Witch, and she threw her arms
about his neck, and her breath was hot upon his face.
"Faster, faster!" she cried, and the earth seemed to
spin beneath his feet, and his brain grew troubled,
and a great terror fell on him, as of some evil thing
that was watching him, and at last he became aware
that under the shadow of a rock there was a figure
that had not been there before.
It was a man dressed in a suit of black velvet, cut
in the Spanish fashion. His face was strangely paJe,
but his lips were like a proud red flower. He seemed
weary, and was leaning back toying in a listless man-
ner with the pommel of his dagger. On the grass
beside him lay a plumed hat, and a pair of riding
gloves gauntleted with gilt lace, and sewn with seed-
pearls wrought into a curious device. A short cloak
lined with sables hung from his shoulder, and his
delicate white hands were gemmed with rings.
Heavy eyelids drooped over his eyes.
The young Fisherman watched him, as one snared
in a spell. At last their eyes met, and wherever he
danced it seemed to him that the eyes of the man
were upon him. He heard the Witch laugh, and
caught her by the waist, and whirled her madly
round and round.
107
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
Suddenly a dog bayed in the wood, and the dancers
stopped, and going up two by two, knelt down, and
kissed the man's hands. As they did so, a little smile
touched his proud lips, as a bird's wing touches the
water and makes it laugh. But there was disdain in
it. He kept looking at the young Fisherman.
"Come! let us worship," whispered the Witch, and
she led him up, and a great desire to do as she be-
sought him seized on him, and he followed her. But
when he came close, and without knowing why he
did it, he made on his breast the sign of the Cross,
and called upon the holy name.
No sooner had he done so than the witches
screamed like hawks and flew away, and the pallid
face that had been watching him twitched with a
spasm of pain. The man went over to a little wood,
and whistled. A jennet with silver trappings came
running to meet him. As he leapt upon the saddle
he turned round, and looked at the young Fisherman
sadly.
And the Witch with the red hair tried to fly away
also, but the Fisherman caught her by her wrists,
and held her fast.
"Loose me," she cried, "and let me go. For thou
hast named what should not be named, and shown
the sign that may not be looked at."
"Nay," he answered, "but I will not let thee go
till thou hast told me the secret."
1 08
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"What secret?" said the Witch, wrestling with
him like a wild cat, and biting her foam-flecked lips.
"Thou knowest," he made answer.
Her grass-green eyes grew dim with tears, and she
said to the Fisherman, "Ask me anything but that."
He laughed, and held her all the more tightly.
And when she saw that she could not free herself,
she whispered to him, "Surely I am as fair as the
daughters of the sea, and as comely as those that
dwell in the blue waters," and she fawned on him
and put her face close to his.
But he thrust her back frowning, and said to her,
"If thou keepest not the promise that thou madest
to me I will slay thee for a false witch."
She grew gray as a blossom of the Judas tree, and
shuddered. "Be it so,' she muttered. "It is thy soul
and not mine. Do with it as thou wilt." And she
took from her girdle a little knife that had a handle
of green viper's skin, and gave it to him.
"What shall this serve me?" he asked of her won-
dering.
She was silent for a few moments, and a look of
terror came over her face. Then she brushed her
hair back from her forehead, and smiling strangely
she said to him, "What men call the shadow of the
body is not the shadow of the body, but is the body
of the soul. Stand on the seashore with thy back to
the moon, and cut away from around thy feet thy
109
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
shadow, which is thy soul's body, and bid thy soul
leave thee, and it will do so."
The young Fisherman trembled. "Is this true?"
he murmured.
"It is true, and I would that I had not told thee
of it," she cried, and she clung to his knees weeping.
He put her from him and left her in the rank grass,
and going to the edge of the mountain he placed the
knife in his belt, and began to climb down.
And his Soul that was within him called out to
him and said, "Lo! I have dwelt with thee for all
these years, and have been thy servant. Send me not
away from thee now, for what evil have I done
thee?"
And the young Fisherman laughed. "Thou hast
done me no evil, but I have no need of thee," he an-
swered. "The world is wide, and there is Heaven
also, and Hell, and that dim twilight house that lies
between. Go wherever thou wilt, but trouble me notr
for my love is calling to me."
And his Soul besought him piteously, but he
heeded it not, but leapt from crag to crag, being sure-
footed as a wild goat, and at last he reached the level
ground and the yellow shore of the sea.
Bronze-limbed and well-knit, like a statue wrought
by a Grecian, he stood on the sand with his back to
the moon, and out of the foam came white arms that
beckoned to him, and out of the waves rose dim forms
no
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
that did him homage. Before him lay his shadow,
which was the body of the soul, and behind him hung
the moon in the honey-colored air.
And his Soul said to him, "If indeed thou must
drive me from thee, send me not forth without a
heart. The world is cruel, give me thy heart to take
with me."
He tossed his head and smiled. "With what should
I love my love if I gave thee my heart?" he cried.
"Nay, but be merciful, said his Soul: "give me
thy heart, for the world is very cruel, and I am
afraid."
"My heart is my love's," he answered, "therefore
tarry not, but get thee gone."
"Should I not love also?" asked his Soul.
"Get thee gone, for I have no need of thee," cried
the young Fisherman, and he took the little knife
with its handle of green viper's spin, and cut away
his shadow from around his feet, and it rose up and
stood before him, and looked at him, and it was even
as himself.
He crept back and thrust the knife into his belt,
and a feeling of awe came over him. "Get thee
gone," he murmured, "and let me see thy face no
more."
"Nay, but we must meet again," said the Soul. Its
voice was low and flute-like, and its lips hardly
moved while it spake.
in
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"How shall we meet?" cried the young Fisherman.
"Thou wilt not follow me into the depths of the sea?"
"Once every year I will come to this place, and
call to thee," said the Soul. "It may be that thou
wilt have need of me."
"What need should I have of thee?" cried the
young Fisherman, "but be it as thou wilt," and he
plunged into the water, and the Tritons blew their
horns, and the little Mermaid rose up to meet him,
and put her arms around his neck and kissed him on
the mouth.
And the Soul stood on the lonely beach and
watched them. And when they had sunk down into
the sea, it went weeping away over the marshes.
And after a year was over the Soul came down to
the shore of the sea and called to the young Fisher-
man, and he rose out of the deep and said, "Why
dost thou call to me?"
And the Soul answered, "Come nearer, that I may
speak with thee, for I have seen marvelous things."
So he came nearer, and crouched in the shallow
water, and leaned his head upon his hand and lis-
tened.
And the Soul said to him, "When I left thee I
turned my face to the East and journeyed. From the
East cometh everything that is wise. Six days I jour-
112
THE FISHERMAN AND HIS SOUL
' Get thee gone for I have no need of thee, ' ' cried the young fisherman.
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
neyed, and on the morning of the seventh day I came
to a hill that is in the country of the Tartars. I sat
down under the shade of a tamarisk tree to shelter
myself from the sun. The land was dry, and burnt
up with the heat. The people went to and fro over
the plain like flies crawling upon a disk of polished
copper.
"When it was noon a cloud of red dust rose up
from the flat rim of the land. When the Tartars saw
it, they strung their painted bows, and having leapt
upon their little horses they galloped to meet it. The
women fled to the wagons, and hid themselves be-
hind the felt curtains.
"At twilight the Tartars returned, but five of them
were missing, and of those that came back not a few
had been wounded. They harnessed their horses
to the wagons and drove hastily away. Three jack-
als came out of a cave and peered after them. Then
they sniffed up the air with their nostrils, and trotted
off in the opposite direction.
"When the moon rose I saw a campflre burning
on the plain, and went towards it. A company of
merchants were seated round it on carpets. Their
camels were picketed behind them, and the negroes
who were their servants were pitching tents of tanned
skin upon the sand, and making a high wall of the
prickly pear.
"As I came near them, the chief of the merchants
"3
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
rose up and drew his sword, and asked me my busi-
ness.
"I answered that I was a prince in my own land,
and that I had escaped from the Tartars, who had
sought to make me their slave. The chief smiled,
and showed me five heads fixed upon long reeds of
bamboo.
"Then he asked me who was the prophet of God,
and I answered him Mohammed.
"When he heard the name of the false prophet,
he bowed and took me by the hand, and placed me
by his side. A negro brought me some mare's milk
in a wooden dish, and a piece of lamb's flesh roasted.
"At daybreak we started on our journey. I rode
on a red-haired camel by the side of the chief, and a
runner ran before us carrying a spear. The men of
war were on either hand, and the mules followed
with the merchandise. There were forty camels in
the caravan, and the mules were twice forty in num-
ber.
"We went from the country of the Tartars into the
country of those who curse the Moon. We saw the
Gryphons guarding their gold on the white rocks,
and the scaled Dragons sleeping in their caves. As
we passed over the mountains we held our breath lest
the snows might fall on us, and each man tied a veil
of gauze before his eyes. As we passed through the
valleys the Pygmies shot arrows at us from the hol-
114
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
lows of the trees, and at night time we heard the wild
men beating on their drums. When we came to the
Tower of Apes we set fruits before them, and they
did not harm us. When we came to the Tower of
Serpents we gave them warm milk in bowls of brass,
and they let us go by. Three times in our journey
we came to the banks of the Oxus. We crossed it on
rafts of wood with great bladders of blown hide.
The river-horses raged against us and sought to slay
us. When the camels saw them they trembled.
"The kings of each city levied tolls on us, but
would not suffer us to enter their gates. They threw
bread over the walls, little maize-cakes baked in
honey and cakes of fine flour filled with dates. For
every hundred baskets we gave them a bead of amber.
"When the dwellers in the villages saw us coming,
they poisoned the wells and fled to the hill-summits.
We fought with the Magadae who are born old, and
grow younger and younger every year, and die when
they are little children; and with the Laktroi who
say that they are the sons of tigers, and paint them-
selves yellow and black; and with the Aurantes who
bury their dead on the tops of trees, and themselves
live in dark caverns lest the Sun, who is their god,
should slay them; and with the Krimnians who wor-
ship a crocodile, and give it earrings of green glass,
and feed it with butter and fresh fowls; and with
the Agazonbae, who are dog-faced; and with the
ii5
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
Sidans, who have horses' feet, and run more swiftly
than horses. A third of our company died in battle,
and a third died of want. The rest murmured
against me, and said that I had brought them an evil
fortune. I took a horned adder from beneath a stone,
and let it sting me. When they saw that I did not
sicken they grew afraid.
"In the fourth month we reached the city of Illel.
It was night time when we came to the grove that is
outside the walls, and the air was sultry, for the
Moon was traveling in Scorpion. We took the ripe
pomegranates from the trees, and brake them and
drank their sweet juices. Then we lay down on our
carpets and waited for the dawn.
"And at dawn we rose and knocked at the gate of
the city. It was wrought out of red bronze, and
carved with sea-dragons and dragons that have
wings. The guards looked down from the battle-
ments, and asked us our business. The interpreter
of the caravan answered that we had come from the
island of Syria with much merchandise. They took
hostages, and told us that they would open the gate
to us at noon, and bade us tarry till then.
"When it was noon they opened the gate, and as
we entered in the people came crowding out of the
houses to look at us, and a crier went round the city
crying through a shell. We stood in the market-
place, and the negroes uncorded the bales of figured
116
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
cloths and opened the carved chests of sycamore.
And when they had ended their task, the merchants
set forth their strange wares, the waxed linen from
Egypt and the painted linen from the country of the
Ethiops, the purple sponges from Tyre and the
blue hangings from Sidon, the cups of cold amber
and the fine vessels of glass and the curious vessels of
burnt clay. From the roof of a house a company of
women watched us. One of them wore a mask of
gilded leather.
"And on the first day the priests came and bartered
with us, and on the second day came the nobles, and
on the third day came the craftsmen and the slaves.
And this is their custom with all merchants as long
as they tarry in the city.
"And we tarried for a moon, and when the moon
was waning, I wearied and wandered away through
the streets of the city and came to the garden of its
god. The priests in their yellow robes moved silently
through the green trees, and on a pavement of black
marble stood the rose-red house in which the god has
his dwelling. Its doors were of powered lacquer,
and bulls and peacocks were wrought on them in
raised and polished gold. The tiled roof was of sea-
green porcelain, and the jutting eaves were festooned
with little bells. When the white doves flew past,
they struck the bells with their wings and made them
tinkle.
117
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"In front of the temple was a pool of clear water
paved with veined onyx. I lay down beside it, and
with my pale fingers I touched the broad leaves.
One of the priests came towards me and stood behind
me. He had sandals on his feet, one of soft serpent-
skin and the other of birds' plumage. On his head
was a miter of black felt decorated with silver cres-
cents. Seven yellows were woven into his robe, and
his frizzed hair was stained with antimony.
"After a little while he spake to me, and asked me
my desire.
"I told him that my desire was to see the god.
" 'The god is hunting,' said the priest, looking
strangely at me with his small slanting eyes.
" 'Tell me in what forest, and I will ride with him,'
I answered.
"He combed out the soft fringes of his tunic with
his long pointed nails.
" 'The god is asleep,' he murmured.
" 'Tell me on what couch, and I will watch by
him,' I answered.
" 'The god is at the feast,' he cried.
" 'If the wine be sweet I will drink it with him,
and if it be bitter I will drink it with him also,' was
my answer.
"He bowed his head in wonder, and, taking me by
the hand, he raised me up, and led me into the tem-
ple.
118
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"And in the first chamber I saw an idol seated on
a throne of jasper bordered with great orient pearls.
It was carved out of the ebony, and in stature was of
the stature of a man. On its forehead was a ruby,
and thick oil dripped from its hair on to its thighs.
Its feet were red with the blood of a newly-slain kid,
and its loins girt with a copper belt that was studded
with seven beryls.
"And I said to the priest, 'Is this the god?' And
he answered me, 'This is the god.'
" 'Show me the god,' I cried, 'or I will surely slay
thee.' And I touched his hand, and it became with-
ered.
"And the priest besought me, saying, 'Let my lord
heal his servant, and I will show him the god.'
"So I breathed with my breath upon his hand, and
it became whole again, and he trembled and led me
into the second chamber, and I saw an idol standing
on a lotus of jade hung with great emeralds. It was
carved out of ivory, and in stature was twice the
stature of a man. On its forehead was a chrysolite
and its breasts were smeared with myrrh and cinna-
mon. In one hand it held a crooked scepter of jade,
and in the other a round crystal. It ware buskins of
brass, and its thick neck was circled with a circle of
selenites.
"And I said to the priest, 'Is this the god?' And
he answered me, 'This is the god.'
119
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
" 'Show me the god,' I cried, 'or I will surely slay
thee,' and I touched his eyes, and they became blind.
"And the priest besought me, saying, 'Let my lord
heal his servant, and I will show him the god.'
"So I breathed with my breath upon his eyes, and
the sight came back to them, and he trembled again,
and led me into the third chamber, and lo! there was
no idol in it, nor image of any kind, but only a mirror
of round metal set on an altar of stone.
"And I said to the priest, 'Where is the god?'
"And he answered me: 'There is no god but this
mirror that thou seest, for this is the Mirror of Wis-
dom. And it reflecteth all things that are in heaven
and on earth, save only the face of him who looketh
into it. This it reflecteth not, so that he who looketh
into it may be wise. Many other mirrors are there,
but they are Mirrors of Opinion. This only is the
Mirror of Wisdom. And they who possess this mir-
ror know everything, nor is there anything hidden
from them. And they who possess it not have not
Wisdom. Therefore is it the god, and we worship
it' And I looked into the mirror, and it was even
as he had said to me.
"And I did a strange thing, but what I did matters
not, for in a valley that is but a day's journey from
this place have I hidden the Mirror of Wisdom. Do
but suffer me to enter into thee again and be thy serv-
ant, and thou shalt be wiser than all the wise men,
1 20
THE FISHERMAN AND HIS SOUL
' Faster, faster !" she cried and the earth teemed to spin beneath his feet.
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
and Wisdom shall be thine. Suffer me to enter into
thee, and none will be as wise as thou."
But the young Fisherman laughed. "Love is bet-
ter than Wisdom," he cried, "and the little Mermaid
loves me."
"Nay, but there is nothing better than Wisdom,"
said the Soul.
"Love is better," answered the young Fisherman,
and he plunged into the deep, and the Soul went
weeping away over the marshes.
And after the second year was over the Soul came
down to the shore of the sea, and called to the young
Fisherman, and he rose out of the deep and said,
"Why dost thou call me?"
And the Soul answered, "Come nearer that I may
speak with thee, for I have seen marvelous things."
So he came nearer, and crouched in the shallow wa-
ter, and leaned his head upon his hand and listened.
And the Soul said to him, "When I left thee, I
turned my face to the South and journeyed. From
the South cometh everything that is precious. Six
days I journeyed along the highways that lead to the
city of Ashter, along the dusty red-dyed highways
by which the pilgrims are wont to go did I journey,
and on the morning of the seventh day I lifted up my
eyes, and lo! the city lay at my feet, for it is in a
valley.
121
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"There are nine gates to this city, and in front of
each gate stands a bronze horse that neighs when the
Bedouins come down from the mountains. The
walls are cased with copper, and the watch-towers
on the walls are roofed with brass. In every tower
stands an archer with a bow in hand. At sunrise he
strikes with an arrow on a gong, and at sunset he
blows through a horn of horn.
"When I sought to enter, the guards stopped me
and asked of me who I was. I made answer that I
was a Dervish and on my way to the city of Mecca,
where there was a green veil on which the Koran was
embroidered in silver letters by the hands of the
angels. They were filled with wonder, and en-
treated me to pass in.
"Inside it is even as a bazaar. Surely thou
should'st have been with me. Across the narrow
streets the gay lanterns of paper flutter like large
butterflies. When the wind blows over the roof they
rise and fall as painted bubbles do. In front of their
booths sit the merchants on silken carpets. They
have straight black beards, and their turbans are
covered with golden sequins, long strings of amber
and carved peach-stones glide through their cool
fingers. Some of them sell galabanum and nard, and
curious perfumes from the islands of the Indian Sea,
and the thick oil of red roses, and myrrh and little
nail-shaped cloves. When one stops to speak to
122
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
them, they throw pinches of frankincense upon a
charcoal brazier and make the air sweet. I saw a
Syrian who held in his hands a thin rod like a reed.
Gray threads of smoke came from it, and its odor as
it burned was as the odor of the pink almond in
spring. Others sell silver bracelets embossed all
over with creamy blue turquoise stones, and anklets
of brass wire fringed with little pearls, and tigers'
claws set in gold, and the claws of that gilt cat, the
leopard, set in gold also, and ear-rings of pierced
emerald, and finger-rings of hollowed jade. From
the tea-houses comes the sound of the guitar, and the
opium-smokers with their white smiling faces look
out at the passers-by.
"Of a truth thou should'st have been with me. The
wine-sellers elbow their way through the crowd with
great black skins on their shoulders. Most of them
sell the wine of Schiraz, which is as sweet as honey.
They serve it in little metal cups and strew rose leaves
upon it. In the market-place stand the fruitsellers,
who sell all kinds of fruit: ripe figs, with their
bruised purple flesh, melons, smelling of musk and
yellow as topazes, citrons and rose-apples and clusters
of white grapes, round red-gold oranges, and oval
lemons of green gold. Once I saw an elephant go
by. Its trunk was painted with vermilion and tur-
meric, and over its ears it had a net of crimson silk
cord. It stopped opposite one of the booths and be-
123
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
gan eating the oranges, and the man only laughed.
Thou canst not think how strange a people they are.
When they are glad they go to the bird-sellers and
buy them a caged bird, and set it free that their joy
may be greater, and when they are sad they scourge
themselves with thorns that their sorrow may no'
grow less.
"One evening I met some negroes carrying a heavy
palanquin through the bazaar. It was made of
gilded bamboo, and the poles were of vermilion
lacquer studded with brass peacocks. Across the
windows hung thin curtains of muslin embroidered
with beetles' wings and with tiny seed-pearls, and as
it passed by a pale-faced Circassian looked out and
smiled at me. I followed behind, and the negroes
hurried their steps and scowled. But I did not care.
I felt a great curiosity come over me.
"At last they stopped at a square white house.
There were no windows to it, only a little door like
the door of a tomb. They set down the palanquin
and knocked three times with a copper hammer. An
Armenian in a caftan of green leather peered through
the wicket, and when he saw them he opened, and
spread a carpet on the ground, and the woman
stepped out. As she went in, she turned round and
smiled at me again. I had never seen any one so
pale.
"When the moon rose I returned to the same place
124
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
and sought for the house, but it was no longer there.
When I saw that, I knew who the woman was, and
wherefore she had smiled at me.
"Certainly thou should'st have been with me. On
the feast of the New Moon the young Emperor came
forth from his palace and went into the mosque to
pray. His hair and beard were dyed with rose-
leaves, and his cheeks were powdered with a fine
gold dust. The palms of his feet and hands were
yellow with saffron.
"At sunrise he went forth from his palace in a
robe of silver, and at sunset he returned to it again
in a robe of gold. The people flung themselves on
the ground and hid their faces, but I would not do
so. I stood by the stall of a seller of dates and
waited. When the Emperor saw me, he raised his
painted eyebrows and stopped. I stood quite still,
and made him no obeisance. The people marveled
at my boldness, and counseled me to flee from the city.
I paid no heed to them, but went and sat with the
sellers of strange gods, who by reason of their craft
are abominated. When I told them what I had done,
each of them gave me a god and prayed me to leave
them.
"That night, as I lay on a cushion in the tea-house
that is in the Street of Pomegranates, the guards of
the Emperor entered and led me to the palace. As
I went in they closed each door behind me, and put
125
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
a chain across it. Inside was a great court with an
arcade running all round. The walls were of white
alabaster, set here and there with blue and green tiles.
The pillars were of green marble, and the pavement
of a kind of peach-blossom marble. I had never
seen anything like it before.
"As I passed across the court two veiled women
looked down from the balcony and cursed me. The
guards hastened on, and the butts of the lances rang
upon the polished floor. They opened a gate of
wrought ivory, and I found myself in a watered gar-
den of seven terraces. It was planted with tulip-cups
and moonflowers, and silver-studded aloes. Like a
slim reed of crystal a fountain hung in the dusky air.
The cypress-trees were like burnt-out torches. From
one of them a nightingale was singing.
"At the end of the garden stood a little pavilion.
As we approached it two eunuchs came out to meet
us. Their fat bodies swayed as they walked, and
they glanced curiously at me with their yellow-
lidded eyes. One of them drew aside the captain of
the guard, and in a low voice whispered to him. The
other kept munching scented pastilles, which he took
with an affected gesture out of an oval box of lilac
enamel.
"After a few moments the captain of the guard dis-
missed the soldiers. They went back to the palace,
the eunuchs following slowly behind and plucking
126
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
the sweet mulberries from the trees as they passed.
Once the elder of the two turned round and smiled
at me with an evil smile.
"Then the captain of the guard motioned me to-
wards the entrance of the pavilion. I walked on
without trembling, and drawing the heavy curtain
aside I entered in.
"The young Emperor was stretched on a couch of
dyed lion skins, and a ger-falcon perched upon his
wrist. Behind him stood a brass-turbaned Nubian,
naked down to the waist, and with heavy earrings in
his split ears. On a table by the side of the couch
lay a mighty scimitar of steel.
"When the Emperor saw me he frowned, and said
to me, 'What is thy name? Knowest thou not that
I am Emperor of this city?' But I made him no
answer.
"He pointed with his finger at the scimitar, and
the Nubian seized it, and rushing forward struck at
me with great violence. The blade whizzed through
me, and did me no hurt. The man fell sprawling
on the floor, and when he rose up, his teeth chattered
with terror and he hid himself behind the couch.
"The Emperor leapt to his feet, and taking a lance
from a stand of arms he threw it at me. I caught it
in its flight, and brake the shaft into two pieces. He
shot at me with an arrow, but I held up my hands
and it stopped in mid-air. Then he drew a dagger
127
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
from a belt of white leather, and stabbed the Nubian
in the throat lest the slave should tell of his dishonor.
The man writhed like a trampled snake, and a red
foam bubbled from his lips.
"As soon as he was dead the Emperor turned to
me, and when he had wiped away the bright sweat
from his brow with a little napkin of purfled and
purple silk, he said to me, 'Art thou a prophet, that
I may not harm thee, or the son of a prophet that
I can do thee no hurt? I pray thee leave my city
to-night, for while thou art in it I am no longer its
lord.'
"And I answered him, 'I will go for half thy
treasure. Give me half of thy treasure and I will go
away.'
"He took me by the hand, and led me out into the
garden. When the captain of the guard saw me, he
wondered. When the eunuchs saw me, their knees
shook and they fell upon the ground in fear.
"There is a chamber in the palace that has eight
walls of red porphyry, and a brass-scaled ceiling
hung with lamps. The Emperor touched one of the
walls and it opened, and we passed down a corridor
that was lit with many torches. In niches upon each
side stood great wine-jars filled to the brim with sil-
ver pieces. When we reached the center of the cor-
ridor the Emperor spake the word that may not be
spoken, and a granite door swung back on a secret
128
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
spring, and he put his hands before his face lest his
eyes should be dazzled.
"Thou couldst not believe how marvelous a place
it was. There were huge tortoise-shells of pearls,
and hollowed moonstones of great size piled up with
red rubies. The gold was stored in coffers of ele-
phant-hide, and the gold-dust in leather bottles.
There were opals and sapphires, the former in cups
of crystal, and the latter in cups of jade. Round
green emeralds were ranged in order upon thin plates
of ivory, and in one corner were silk bags filled, some
with turquoise-stones, and others with beryls. The
ivory horns were heaped with purple amethysts, and
the horns of brass were chalcedonies and sards. The
pillars, which were of cedar, were hung with strings
of yellow lynx-stones. In the flat oval shields there
were carbuncles, both wine-colored and colored like
grass. And yet I have told thee but a tithe of what
was there.
"And when the Emperor had taken away his hands
from before his face he said to me: 'This is my house
of treasure, and half that is in it is thine, even as I
promised to thee. And I will give thee camels and
camel drivers, and they shall do thy bidding and take
away thy share of the treasure to whatever part of
the world thou desirest to go. And the thing shall be
done to-night, for I would not that the Sun, who is
129
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
my father, should see that there is in my city a man
whom I cannot slay.'
"But I answered him, 'The gold that is here is
thine, and the silver is thine also, and thine are the
precious jewels and the things of price. As for me,
I have no need of these. Nor shall I take aught from
thee but that little ring that thou wearest on the finger
of thy hand.'
"And the Emperor frowned. 'It is but a ring of
lead,' he cried, 'nor has it any value. Therefore take
thy half of the treasure and go from my city.'
" 'Nay,' I answered, 'but I will take nought but
that leaden ring, for I know what is written within
it, and for what purpose.'
"And the Emperor trembled, and besought me and
said, 'Take all the treasure and go from my city.
The half that is mine shall be thine also.'
"And I did a strange thing, but what I did mat-
ters not, for in a cave that is but a day's journey from
this place have I hidden the Ring of Riches. It is
but a day's journey from this place, and it waits for
thy coming. He who has this Ring is richer than
all the kings of the world. Come therefore and take
it, and the world's riches shall be thine."
But the young Fisherman laughed. "Love is bet-
ter than Riches," he cried, "and the little Mermaid
loves me."
130
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"Nay, but there is nothing better than Riches,"
said the Soul.
"Love is better," answered the young Fisherman,
and he plunged into the deep, and the Soul went
weeping away over the marshes.
And after the third year was over, the Soul came
down to the shore of the sea, and called to the young
Fisherman, and he rose out of the deep and said,
"Why dost thou call to me?"
And the Soul answered, "Come nearer, that I may
speak with thee, for I have seen marvelous things."
So he came nearer, and crouched in the shallow
water, and leaned his head upon his hand and
listened.
And the Soul said to him, "In a city that I know
of there is an inn that standeth by a river. I sat
there with sailors who drank of two different colored
wines, and ate bread made of barley, and little salt
fish served in bay leaves with vinegar. And as we
sat and made merry, there entered to us an old man
bearing a leathern carpet and a lute that had two
horns of amber. And when he had laid out the car-
pet on the floor, he struck with a quill on the wire
strings of his lute, and a girl whose face was veiled
ran in and began to dance before us. Her face was
veiled with a veil of gauze, but her feet were naked.
Naked were her feet, and they moved over the car-
131
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
pet like little white pigeons. Never have I seen any-
thing so marvelous, and the city in which she dances
is but a day's journey from this place."
Now when the young Fisherman heard the words
of his Soul, he remembered that the little Mermaid
had no feet and could not dance. And a great de-
sire came over him, and he said to himself, "It is but
a day's journey, and I can return to my love," and
he laughed, and stood up in the shallow water, and
strode towards the shore.
And when he had reached the dry shore he laughed
again, and held out his arms to his Soul. And his
Soul gave a great cry of joy and ran to meet him, and
entered into him, and the young Fisherman saw
stretched before him upon the sand that shadow of
the body that is the body of the Soul.
And his Soul said to him, "Let us not tarry, but
get hence at once, for the Sea-gods are jealous, and
have monsters that do their bidding."
So they made haste, and all that night they jour-
neyed beneath the moon, and all the next day they
journeyed beneath the sun, and on the evening of
the day they came to a city.
And the young Fisherman said to his Soul, "Is this
the city in which she dances of whom thou did'st
speak to me?"
132
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
And his Soul answered him. "It is not this city,
but another. Nevertheless let us enter in."
So they entered in and passed through the streets,
and as they passed through the Street of the Jewelers
the Fisherman saw a fair silver cup, set forth in a
booth. And his Soul said to him, "Take that silver
cup and hide it."
So he took the cup and hid it in the fold of his
tunic, and they went hurriedly out of the city.
And after that they had gone a league from the
city, the young Fisherman frowned, and flung the
cup away, and said to the Soul, "Why did'st thou tell
me to take this cup and hide it, for it was an evil
thing to do?"
But his Soul answered him, "Be at peace, be at
peace."
And on the evening of the second day they came to
a city, and the young Fisherman said to his Soul, "Is
this the city in which she dances of whom thou did'st
speak to me?"
And his Soul answered him, "It is not this city,
but another. Nevertheless let us enter in."
So they entered in and passed through the street,
and as they passed through the Street of the Sellers
of Sandals, the young Fisherman saw a child stand-
ing by a jar of water. And his Soul said to him,
"Smite that child." So he smote the child till it
133
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
wept, and when he had done this they went hur-
riedly out of the city.
And after that they had gone a league from the city
the young Fisherman grew wroth, and said to his
Soul, "Why did'st thou tell me to smite the child, for
it was an evil thing to do?"
But his Soul answered him, "Be at peace, be at
peace."
And on the evening of the third day they came to
a city and the young Fisherman said to his Soul, "Is
this the city in which she dances of whom thou did'st
speak to me?"
And his Soul answered him, "It may be that it is
this city, therefore let us enter in."
So they entered in and passed through the streets,
but nowhere could the young Fisherman find the
river or the inn that stood by its side. And the people
of the city looked curiously at him, and he grew
afraid and said to his Soul, "Let us go hence, for she
who dances with white feet is not here."
But the Soul answered, "Nay, but let us tarry, for
the night is dark and there will be robbers on the
way."
So he sat him down in the market-place and rested,
and after a time there went by a hooded merchant
who had a cloak of Tartary, and bare a lantern of
pierced horn at the end of a jointed reed. And the
merchant said to him, "Why dost thou sit in the
134
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
market-place, seeing that the booths are closed and
the bales corded?"
And the young Fisherman answered him, "I can
find no inn in this city, nor have I any kinsman who
might give me shelter."
"Are we not all kinsmen?" said the merchant.
"And did not one God make us? Therefore come
with me, for I have a guest-chamber."
So the young Fisherman rose up and followed the
merchant to his house. And when he had passed
through a garden of pomegranates and entered into
the house, the merchant brought him rose-water in
a copper dish that he might wash his hands, and ripe
melons that he might quench his thirst, and set a
bowl of rice and a piece of roasted kid before him.
And after that he had finished, the merchant led
him to the guest-chamber, and bade him sleep and
be at rest. And the young Fisherman gave him
thanks, and kissed the ring that was on his hand,
and flung himself down on the carpets of dyed goat's-
hair. And when he had covered himself with a cov-
ering of black lamb's-wool he fell asleep.
And three hours before dawn, and while it was
still night, his Soul waked him, and said to him,
"Rise up and go to the room of the merchant, even
to the room in which he sleepeth, and slay him, and
take from him his gold, for we have need of it."
And the young Fisherman rose up and crept to-
135
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
wards the room of the merchant, and over the feet
of the merchant there was lying a curved sword, and
the tray by the side of the merchant held nine purses
of gold. And he reached out his hand and touched
the sword, and when he touched it the merchant
started and awoke, and leaping up seized himself the
sword, and cried to the young Fisherman, "Dost thou
return evil for good, and pay with the shedding of
blood for the kindness that I have shown thee?"
An his Soul said to the young Fisherman, "Strike
him," and he struck him so that he swooned, and he
seized then the nine purses of gold, and fled hastily
through the garden of pomegranates, and set his face
to the star that is the star of morning.
And when they had gone a league from the city,
the young Fisherman beat his breast, and said to his
Soul, "Why didst thou bid me slay the merchant and
take his gold? Surely thou art evil."
But his Soul answered him, "Be at peace, be at
peace."
"Nay," cried the young Fisherman, "I may not be
at peace, for all that thou hast made me to do I hate.
Thee also I hate, and I bid thee tell me wherefore
thou hast wrought with me in this wise."
And his Soul answered him, "When thou didst
send me forth into the world thou gavest me no heart,
so I learned to do all these things and love them."
136
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
"What sayest thou?" murmured the young Fisher-
man.
"Thou knowest," answered his Soul, "thou know-
est it well. Hast thou forgotten that thou gavest me
no heart? I trow not. And so trouble not thyself
nor me, but be at peace, for there is no pain that thou
shall not give away, nor any pleasure that thou shalt
not receive."
And when the young Fisherman heard these words
he trembled and said to his Soul, "Nay, but thou art
evil, and hast made me forget my love, and hast
tempted me with temptations, and hast set my feet
•n the ways of sin."
And his Soul answered him, "Thou hast not for-
gotten that when thou didst send me forth into the
world thou gavest me no heart. Come, let us go to
another city, and make merry, for we have nine
purses of gold."
But the young Fisherman took the nine purses of
gold, and flung them down, and trampled on them.
"Nay," he cried, "but I will have nought to do
with thee, nor will I journey with thee anywhere,
but even as I sent thee away before, so will I send
thee away now, for thou hast wrought me no good."
And he turned his back to the moon, and with the
little knife that had the handle of green viper's skin
he strove to cut from his feet that shadow of the body
which is the body of the Soul.
137
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
Yet his Soul stirred not from him, nor paid heed to
his command, but said to him, "The Spell that the
Witch told thee avails thee no more, for I may not
leave thee, nor mayest thou drive me forth. Once
in his life may a man send his Soul away, but he who
receiveth back his Soul must keep it with him for-
ever, and this is his punishment and his reward."
And the young Fisherman grew pale and clenched
his hands and cried, "She was a false Witch in that
she told me not that."
"Nay," answered his Soul, "but she was true to
Him she worships, and whose servant she will be
ever."
And when the young Fisherman knew that he
could not longer get rid of his Soul, and that it was
an evil Soul and would abide with him always, he
fell upon the ground weeping bitterly.
And when it was day the young Fisherman rose up
and said to his Soul, "I will bind my hands that I
may not do thy bidding, and close my lips that I may
not speak thy words, and I will return to the place
where she whom I love has her dwelling. Even to
the sea will I return, and to the little bay where she
is wont to sing, and I will call to her and tell her the
evil I have done and the evil thou hast wrought on
me."
And his soul tempted him and said, "Who is thy
love that thou should'st return to her? The world
138
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
has many fairer than she is. There are the dancing-
girls of Samaris who dance in the manner of all kinds
of birds and beasts. Their feet are painted with
henna, and in their hands they have little copper
bells. They laugh while they dance, and their laugh-
ter is as clear as the laughter of water. Come with
me and I will show them to thee. For what is this
trouble of thine about the things of sin? Is that
which is pleasant to eat not made for the eater? Is
there poison in that which is sweet to drink? Trou-
ble not thyself, but come with me to another city.
There is a little city hard by in which there is a
garden of tulip-trees. And there dwell in this comely
garden white peacocks and peacocks that have blue
breasts. Their tails when they spread them to the
sun are like disks of ivory and like gilt disks. And
she who feeds them dances for their pleasure, and
sometimes she dances on her hands and at other times
she dances with her feet. Her eyes are colored with
stibium, and her nostrils are shaped like the wings
of a swallow. From a hook in one of her nostrils
hangs a flower that is carved out of a pearl. She
laughs while she dances, and the silver rings that are
about her ankles tinkle like bells of silver. And so
trouble not thyself any more, but come with me to
this city."
But the young Fisherman answered not his Soul,
but closed his lips with the seal of silence and with
139
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
a tight cord bound his hands, and journeyed back to
the place from which he had come, even to the little
bay where his love had been wont to sing. And ever
did his Soul tempt him by the way, but he made it
no answer, nor would he do any of the wickedness
that it sought to make him to do, so great was the
power of the love that was within him.
And when he had reached the shore of the sea,
he loosed the cord from his hands, and took the seal
of silence from his lips and called to the little Mer-
maid. But she came not to his call, though he called
to her all day long and besought her.
And his Soul mocked him and said, "Surely thou
hast but little joy out of thy love. Thou art as one
who in time of dearth pours water into a broken ves-
sel. Thou givest away what thou hast, and nought is
given to thee in return. It were better for thee to
come with me for I know where the Valley of Pleas-
ure lies, and what things are wrought there."
But the young Fisherman answered not his Soul,
but in a cleft of the rock he built himself a house of
wattles, and abode there for the space of a year. And
every morning he called to the Mermaid, and every
noon he called to her again, and at night-time spake
her name. Yet never did she rise out of the sea to
meet him, nor in any place of the sea could he find
her, though he sought for her in the caves and in
140
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
the water green, in the pools of the tide and in the
wells that are at the bottom of the deep.
And ever did his Soul tempt him with evil, and
whisper of terrible things. Yet did it not prevail
against him, so great was the power of his love.
And after the year was over, the Soul thought
within himself, "I have tempted my master with evil,
and his love is stronger than I am. I will tempt him
now with good, and it may be that he will come with
me."
So he spake to the young Fisherman and said, "I
have told thee of the joy of the world, and thou hast
turned a deaf ear to me. Suffer me now to tell thee
of the world's pain, and it may be that thou wilt
hearken. For of a truth, pain is the Lord of this
world, nor is there any one who escapes from its net.
There be some who lack raiment, and others who
lack bread. There be widows who sit in purple, and
widows who sit in rags. To and fro over the fens
go the lepers, and they are cruel to each other. The
beggars go up and down on the highways, and their
wallets are empty. Through the streets of the cities
walks Famine, and the Plague sits at their gates.
Come, let us go forth and mend these things, and
make them not to be. Wherefore shouldst thou tarry
here calling to thy love, seeing she comes not to thy
call? And what is love, that thou shouldst set this
high store upon it?"
141
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
But the young Fisherman answered it nought, so
great was the power of his love. And every morn-
ing he called to the Mermaid, and every noon he
called to her again, and at night-time he spake her
name. Yet never did she rise out of the sea to meet
him, nor in any place of the sea could he find her,
though he sought for her in the rivers of the sea, and
in the valleys that are under the waves, in the sea that
the night makes purple, and in the sea that the dawn
leaves gray.
And after the second year was over, the Soul said
to the young Fisherman at night-time, and as he sat
in the wattled house alone, "Lo! now I have tempted
thee with evil, and I have tempted thee with good,
and thy love is stronger than I am. Wherefore will
I tempt thee no longer, but I pray thee to suffer me
to enter thy heart, that I may be one with thee even
as before."
"Surely thou mayest enter," said the young Fisher-
man, "for in the days when with no heart thou didst
go through the world thou must have much suffered."
"Alas!" cried his Soul, "I can find no place of en-
trance, so compassed about with love is this heart of
thine."
"Yet I would that I could help thee," said the
young Fisherman.
And as he spake there came a great cry of mourn-
ing from the sea, even the cry that men hear when
142
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
one of the Sea-folk is dead. And the young Fisher-
man leapt up, and left his wattled house, and ran
down to the shore. And the black waves came hur-
rying to the shore, bearing with them a burden that
was whiter than silver. White as the surf it was,
and like a flower it tossed on the waves. And the
surf took it from the waves, and the foam took it
from the surf, and the shore received it, and lying
at his feet the young Fisherman saw the body of the
little Mermaid. Dead at his feet it was lying.
Weeping as one smitten with pain he flung him-
self down beside it, and he kissed the cold red of the
mouth, and toyed with the wet amber of the hair.
He flung himself down beside it on the sand, weep-
ing as one trembling with joy, and in his brown arms
he held it to his breast. Cold were the lips, yet he
kissed them. Salt was the honey of the hair, yet he
tasted it with a bitter joy. He kissed the closed eye-
lids, and the wild spray that lay upon their cups was
less salt than his tears.
And to the dead thing he made confession. Into
the shells of its ears he poured the harsh wine of his
tale. He put the little hands round his neck, and with
his fingers he touched the thin reed of the throat.
Bitter, bitter was his joy, and full of strange glad-
ness was his pain.
The black sea came nearer and the white foam
moaned like a leper. With white claws of foam the
H3
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
sea grabbled at the shore. From the palace of the
Sea-King came the cry of mourning again, and far
out upon the sea the great Tritons blew hoarsely upon
their horns.
"Flee away," said his Soul, "for ever doth the sea
come nigher, and if thou tarriest it will slay thee.
Flee away, for I am afraid seeing that thy heart is
closed against me by reason of the greatness of thy
love. Flee away to a place of safety. Surely thou
wilt not send me without a heart into another world?"
But the young Fisherman listened not to his Soul,
but called on the little Mermaid and said, "Love is
better than wisdom, and more precious than riches,
and fairer than the feet of the daughters of men.
The fires cannot destroy it, nor can the waters quench
it. I called on thee at dawn, and thou didst not come
to my call. The noon heard thy name, yet hadst thou
no heed of me. For evilly had I left thee, and to my
own hurt had I wandered away. Yet ever did thy
love abide with me, and ever was it strong, nor did
aught prevail against it, though I have looked upon
evil and looked upon good. And now that thou art
dead, surely I will die with thee also."
And his Soul besought him to depart, but he would
not, so great was his love. And the sea came nearer,
and sought to cover him with its waves, and when
he knew that the end was at hand he kissed with mad
lips the cold lips of the Mermaid, and the heart that
144
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
was within him brake. And as through the fullness
of his love his heart did break, the Soul found an
entrance and entered in, and was one with him even
as before. And the sea covered the young Fisherman
with its waves.
And in the morning the Priest went forth to bless
the sea, for it had been troubled. And with him went
the monks and the musicians, and the candle-bearers,
and the swingers of censers, and a great company.
And when the Priest reached the shore he saw the
young Fisherman lying drowned in the surf, and
clasped in his arms was the body of the little Mer-
maid. And he drew back frowning, and having
made the sign of the cross, he cried aloud and said,
"I will not bless the sea nor anything that is in it.
Accursed be the Sea-folk, and accursed be all they
who traffic with them. And as for him who for
love's sake forsook God and so lieth here with his
leman slain by God's judgment, take up his body and
the body of his leman, and bury them in the corner
of the Field of the Fullers, and set no mark above
them, nor sign of any kind, that none may know the
place of their resting. For accursed were they in
their lives, and accursed shall they be in their deaths
also."
And the people did as he commanded them, and in
the corner of the Field of the Fullers, where no sweet
H5
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
herbs grew, they dug a deep pit, and laid the dead
things within it.
And when the third year was over, and on a day
that was a holy day, the Priest went up to the chapel,
that he might show to the people the wounds of the
Lord, and speak to them about the wrath of God.
And when he had robed himself with his robes,
and entered in and bowed himself before the altar,
he saw that the altar was covered with strange flow-
ers that never had he seen before. Strange were they
to look at, and of curious beauty, and their beauty
troubled him, and their odor was sweet in his nos-
trils. And he felt glad, and understood not why he
was glad.
And after that he had opened the tabernacle and
incensed the monstrance that was in it, and shown the
fair wafer to the people, and hid it again behind the
veil of veils, he began to speak to them of the wrath
of God. But the beauty of the white flowers troubled
him, and their odor was sweet in his nostrils, and
there came another word into his lips, and he spake
not of the wrath of God, but of the God whose name
is Love. And why so he spake, he knew not.
And when he had finished his word the people
wept, and the Priest went back to the sacristy, and his
eyes were full of tears. And the deacons came in and
began to unrobe him, and took from him the alb and
146
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
the girdle, the maniple and the stole. And he stood
as one in a dream.
And after that they had unrobed him, he looked
at them and said, "What are the flowers that stand on
the altar, and whence do they come?"
And they answered him, "What flowers they are
we cannot tell, but they come from the corner of the
Fullers' Field." And the Priest trembled, and re-
turned to his own house and prayed.
And in the morning, while it was still dawn, he
went forth with the monks and the musicians, and
the candle-bearers and the swingers of censers, and
a great company, and came to the shore of the sea,
and blessed the sea, and all the wild things that are
in it. The Fauns also he blessed, and the little things
that dance in the woodland, and the bright-eyed
things that peer through the leaves. All the things
in God's world he blessed, and the people were filled
with joy and wonder. Yet never again in the corner
of the Fullers' Field grew flowers of any kind, but
the field remained barren even as before. Nor came
the Sea-folk into the bay as they had been wont to
do, for they went to another part of the sea.
147
THE BIRTHDAY OF THE INFANTA
THE BIRTHDAY OF THE INFANTA
IT was the birthday of the Infanta. She was just
twelve years of age, and the sun was shining
brightly in the gardens of the palace.
Although she was a real Princess and the Infanta
of Spain, she had only one birthday every year, just
like the children of quite poor people, so it was natu-
rally a matter of great importance to the whole coun-
try that she should have a really fine day for the
occasion. And a really fine day it certainly was. The
tall striped tulips stood straight up upon their stalks,
like long rows of soldiers, and looked defiantly across
the grass at the roses, and said: "We are quite as
splendid as you are now." The purple butterflies
fluttered about with gold dust on their wings, visit-
ing each flower in turn; the little lizards crept out
of the crevices of the wall, and lay basking in the
white glare; and the pomegranates split and cracked
with the heat, and showed their bleeding red hearts.
Even the pale yellow lemons, that hung in such pro-
fusion from the moldering trellis and along the dim
arcades, seemed to have caught a richer color from
the wonderful sunlight, and the magnolia trees
opened their great globe-like blossoms of folded
151
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
ivory, and rilled the air with a sweet heavy perfume.
The little Princess herself walked up and down
the terrace with her companions, and played at hide
and seek round the stone vases and the old moss-
grown statues. On ordinary days she was only
allowed to play with children of her own rank, so she
had always to play alone, but her birthday was an
exception, and the King had given orders that she
was to invite any of her young friends whom she liked
to come and amuse themselves with her. There was
a stately grace about these slim Spanish children as
they glided about, the boys with their large plumed
hats and short fluttering cloaks, the girls holding up
the trains of their long brocaded gowns, and shield-
ing the sun from their eyes with huge fans of black
and silver. But the Infanta was the most graceful of
all, and the most tastefully attired, after the some-
what cumbrous fashion of the day. Her robe was of
gray satin, the skirt and the wide puffed sleeves
heavily embroidered with silver, and the stiff corset
studded with rows of fine pearls. Two tiny slippers
with big pink rosettes peeped out beneath her dress
as she walked. Pink and pearl was her great gauze
fan, and in her hair, which like an aureole of faded
gold stood out stiffly round her pale little face, she
had a beautiful white rose.
From the window in a palace the sad melancholy
King watched them. Behind him stood his brother,
152
THE BIRTHDA V OF THE INFANTA
But the Infanta was the most graceful of all and the most
gracefully attired after the somewhat cumbrous fashion of
the day.
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
Don Pedro of Aragon, whom he hated, and his con-
fessor, the Grand Inquisitor of Granada, sat by his
side. Sadder even than usual was the King, for as
he looked at the Infanta bowing with childish gravity
to the assembling courtiers, or laughing behind her
fan at the grim Duchess of Albuquerque who always
accompanied her, he thought of the young Queen,
her mother, who but a short time before — so it
seemed to him — had come from the gay country of
France, and had withered away in the somber splen-
dor of the Spanish court, dying just six months after
the birth of her child, and before she had seen the
almonds blossom twice in the orchard or plucked
the second year's fruit from the old gnarled fig-tree
that stood in the center of the now grass-grown court-
yard. So great had been his love for her that he had
not suffered even the grave to hide her from him.
She had been embalmed by a Moorish physician,
who in return for this service had been granted his
life, which for heresy and suspicion of magical prac-
tices had been already forfeited, men said, to the
Holy Office, and her body was still lying on its tapes-
tried bier in the black marble chapel of the Palace,
just as the monks had borne her in on that windy
March day nearly twelve years before. Once every
month the King, wrapped in a dark cloak and with
a muffled lantern in his hand, went in and knelt by
her side, calling ou^ "Mi reina! Mi reina!" and
153
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
sometimes breaking through the formal etiquette that
in Spain governs every separate action of life, and
sets limits even to the sorrow of a King, he would
clutch at the pale jeweled hands in a wild agony of
grief, and try to wake by his mad kisses the cold
painted face.
To-day he seemed to see her again, as he had seen
her first at the Castle of Fontainebleau, when he was
but fifteen years of age, and she still younger. They
had been formally betrothed on that occasion by the
Papal Nuncio in the presence of the French King
and all the Court, and he had returned to the Escu-
rial bearing with him a little ringlet of yellow hair,
and the memory of two childish lips bending down
to kiss his hand as he stepped into his carriage. Later
on had followed the marriage, hastily performed at
Burgos, a small town on the frontier between the
two countries, and the grand public entry into
Madrid with the customary celebration of high mass
at the Church of La Atoacha, and a more than usu-
ally solemn auto-da-fe, in which nearly three hun-
dred heretics, amongst whom were many English-
men, had been delivered over to the secular arm to
be burned.
Certainly he had loved her madly, and to the ruin,
many thought, of his country, then at war with Eng-
land for the possession of the empire of the New
World. He had hardly ever permitted her to be out
154
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
of his sight; for her, he had forgotten, or seemed to
have forgotten, all grave affairs of state; and, with
that terrible blindness that passion brings upon its
servants, he had failed to notice that the elaborate
ceremonies by which he sought to please her did but
aggravate the strange malady from which she suf-
fered. When she died he was, for a time, like one be-
reft of reason. Indeed, there is no doubt but that he
would have formally abdicated and retired to the great
Trappist monastery at Granada, of which he was
already titular Prior; had he not been afraid to leave
the little Infanta at the mercy of his brother, whose
cruelty, even in Spain, was notorious, and who was
suspected by many of having caused the Queen's
death by means of a pair of poisoned gloves that he
had presented to her on the occasion of her visiting
his castle in Aragon. Even after the expiration of
the three years of public mourning that he had or-
dained throughout his whole dominion by royal edict,
he would never suffer his ministers to speak about
any new alliance, and when the Emperor himself
sent to him, and offered him the hand of the lovely
Archduchess of Bohemia, his niece, in marriage, he
bade the ambassador tell their master that the King
of Spain was already wedded to Sorrow, and that
though she was but a barren bride he loved her bet-
ter than Beauty; an answer that cost his crown the
rich provinces of the Netherlands, which soon after,
155
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
at the Emperor's instigation, revolted against him
under the leadership of some fanatics of the Re-
formed Church.
His whole married life, with its fierce fiery-
colored joys and the terrible agony of its sudden end-
ing, seemed to come back to him to-day as he watched
the Infanta playing on the terrace. She had all the
Queen's pretty petulance of manner, the same wilful
way of tossing her head, the same proud curved beau-
tiful mouth, the same wonderful smile — vrai sourire
de France indeed — as she glanced up now and then
at the window, or stretched out her little hand for
the stately Spanish gentlemen to kiss. But the shrill
laughter of the children grated on his ears, and the
bright pitiless sunlight mocked his sorrow, and a dull
odor of strange spices, spices such as embalmers use,
seemed to taint — or was it fancy? — the clear morn-
ing air. He buried his face in his hands, and when
the Infanta looked up again the curtains had been
drawn, and the King had retired.
She made a little moue of disappointment, and
shrugged her shoulders. Surely he might have stayed
with her on her birthday. What did the stupid State-
affairs matter? Or had he gone to that gloomy
chapel, where the candles were always burning, and
where she was never allowed to enter? How silly
of him, when the sun was shining so brightly, and
everybody was so happy! Besides, he would miss
iS6
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
the sham bull-fight for which the trumpet was al-
ready sounding, to say nothing of the puppet show
and the other wonderful things. Her uncle and the
Grand Inquisitor were much more sensible. They
had come out on the terrace, and paid her nice com-
pliments. So she tossed her pretty head, and taking
Don Pedro by the hand, she walked slowly down
the steps towards a long pavilion of purple silk that
had been erected at the end of the garden, the other
children following in strict order of precedence,
those who had the longest names going first.
A procession of noble boys, fantastically dressed as
toreadors, came out to meet her, and the young Count
of Tierra Nueva, a wonderfully handsome lad of
about fourteen years of age, uncovering his head with
all the grace of a born hidalgo and grandee of Spain
led her solemnly in to a gilt and ivory chair that was
placed on a raised dais above the arena. The chil-
dren grouped themselves all round, fluttering their
big fans and whispering to each other, and Don
Pedro and the Grand Inquisitor stood laughing at
the entrance. Even the Duchess — the Camerera-
Mayor as she was called — a thin, hard-featured
woman with a yellow ruff, did not look quite so bad-
tempered as usual, and something like a chill smile
flitted across her wrinkled face and twitched her thin
bloodless lips.
It certainly was a marvelous bull-fight, and much
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
nicer, the Infanta thought, than the real bull-fight
that she had been brought to see at Seville, on the
occasion of the visit of the Duke of Parma to her
father. Some of the boys pranced about on richly-
caparisoned hobby-horses brandishing long javelins
with gay streamers of bright ribands attached to
them; others went on foot waving their scarlet cloaks
before the bull, and vaulting lightly over the barrier
when he charged them; and as for the bull himself,
he was just like a live bull, though he was only made
of wicker-work and stretched hide, and sometimes
insisted on running round the arena on his hind legs,
which no live bull ever dreams of doing. He made
a splendid fight of it too, and the children got so
excited that they stood up upon the benches, and
waved their lace handkerchiefs and cried out: Bravo
toro! Bravo torof just as sensibly as if they had been
grown-up people. At last, however, after a pro-
longed combat, during which several of the hobby-
horses were gored through and through, and their
riders dismounted, the young Count of Tierra Nueva
brought the bull to his knees, and having obtained
permission from the Infanta to give the coup de
grace, he plunged his wooden sword into the neck of
the animal with such violence that the head came
right off, and disclosed the laughing face of little
Monsieur de Lorraine, the son of the French Am-
bassador at Madrid.
IS8
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
The arena was then cleared amidst much applause,
and the dead hobby-horses dragged solemnly away
by two Moorish pages in yellow and black liveries,
and after a short interlude, during which a French
posture-master performed upon the tight-rope, some
Italian puppets appeared in the semi-classical trag-
edy of Sophonisba on the stage of a small theater that
had been built up for the purpose. They acted so
well, and their gestures were so extremely natural,
that at the close of the play the eyes of the Infanta
were quite dim with tears. Indeed some of the chil-
dren really cried, and had to be comforted with
sweetmeats, and the Grand Inquisitor himself was so
affected that he could not help saying to Don Pedro
that it seemed to him intolerable that things made
simply out of wood and colored wax, and worked
mechanically by wires, should be so unhappy and
meet such terrible misfortunes.
An African juggler followed, who brought in a
large flat basket covered with a red cloth, and hav-
ing placed it in the center of the arena, he took from
his turban a curious reed pipe, and blew through it.
In a few moments the cloth began to move, and as
the pipe grew shriller and shriller two green and
gold snakes put out their strange wedge-shaped heads
and rose slowly up, swaying to and fro with the music
as a plant sways in the water. The children, how-
ever, were rather frightened at their spotted hoods
159
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
and quick darting tongues, and were much more
pleased when the juggler made a tiny orange-tree
grow out of the sand and bear pretty white blossoms
and clusters of real fruit; and when he took the fan
of the little daughter of the Marquess de Las-Torres,
and changed it into a blue bird that flew all round
the pavilion and sang, their delight and amazement
knew no bounds. The solemn minuet, too, performed
by the dancing boys from the church of Nuestra
Senora Del Pilar, was charming. The Infanta had
never before seen this wonderful ceremony which
takes place every year at May-time in front of the
high altar of the Virgin, and in her honor; and in-
deed none of the royal family of Spain had entered
the great cathedral of Saragossa since a mad priest,
supposed by many to have been in the pay of Eliza-
beth of England, had tried to administer a poisoned
wafer to the Prince of the Asturias. So she had
known only by hearsay of "Our Lady's Dance," as it
was called, and it certainly was a beautiful sight.
The boys wore old-fashioned court dresses of white
velvet, and their curious three-cornered hats were
fringed with silver and surmounted with huge plumes
of ostrich feathers, the dazzling whiteness of their
costumes, as they moved about in the sunlight, be-
ing still more accentuated by their swarthy faces and
long black hair. Everybody was fascinated by the
grave dignity with which they moved through the
1 60
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
intricate figures of the dance, and by the elaborate
grace of their slow gestures, and stately bows, and
when they had finished their performance and doffed
their plumed great hats to the Infanta, she acknowl-
edged their reverence with much courtesy, and made
a vow that she would send a large wax candle to the
shrine of Our Lady of Pilar in return for the pleas-
ure that she had given her.
A troop of handsome Egyptians — as the gypsies
were termed in those days — then advanced into the
arena, and sitting down cross-legs, in a circle, began
to play softly upon their zithers, moving their bodies
to the tune, and humming almost below their breath
a low dreamy air. When they caught sight of Don
Pedro they scowled at him, and some of them looked
terrified, for only a few weeks before he had had two
of their tribe hanged for sorcery in the market-place
at Seville, but the pretty Infanta charmed them as
she leaned back peeping over her fan with her great
blue eyes, and they felt sure that one so lovely as she
was could never be cruel to anybody. So they played
on very gently and just touching the cords of the
zithers with their long pointed nails, and their heads
began to nod as though they were falling asleep.
Suddenly with a cry so shrill that all the children
were startled and Don Pedro's hand clutched at the
agate pommel of his dagger, they leapt to their feet
and whirled madly round the inclosure beating their
161
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
tambourines, and chanting some wild love-song in
their strange guttural language. Then at another
signal they all flung themselves again to the ground
and lay there quite still, the dull strumming of the
zithers being the only sound that broke the silence.
After they had done this several times, they disap-
peared for a moment and came back leading a shaggy
bear by a chain, and carrying on their shoulders some
little Barbary apes. The bear stood on his head with
the utmost gravity, and the wizened apes played all
kinds of amusing tricks with two gypsy boys who
seemed to be their masters, and fought with tiny
swords, and fired off guns, and went through a regu-
lar soldier's drill like the King's own body-guard.
In fact the gypsies were a great success.
But the funniest part of the whole morning's enter-
tainment was undoubtedly the dancing of the little
Dwarf. When he stumbled into the arena, waddling
on his crooked legs and wagging his huge misshapen
head from side to side, the children went off into a
loud shout of delight, and the Infanta herself laughed
so much that the Camerera was obliged to remind
her that although there were many precedents in
Spain for a King's daughter weeping before her
equals, there was none for a Princess of the blood
royal making so merry before those who were her
inferiors in birth. The Dwarf, however, was really
quite irresistible, and even at the Spanish Court,
162
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
always noted for its cultivated passion for the horri-
ble, so fantastic a little monster had never been seen.
It was his first appearance, too. He had been dis-
covered only the day before, running wild through
the forest, by two of the nobles who happened to have
been hunting in a remote part of the great cork-
wood that surrounded the town, and had been car-
ried off by them to the Palace, as a surprise for the
Infanta, his father, who was a poor charcoal-burner,
being but too well pleased to get rid of so ugly and
useless a child. Perhaps the most amusing thing
about him was his complete unconsciousness of his
own grotesque appearance. Indeed he seemed quite
happy and full of the highest spirits. When the
children laughed, he laughed as freely and as joy-
ously as any of them, and at the close of each dance
he made them each the funniest of bows, smiling and
nodding at them, just as if he was really one of them,
and not a little misshapen thing that Nature, in some
humorous mood, had fashioned for others to mock
at. As for the Infanta, she absolutely fascinated
him. He could not keep his eyes off her, and seemed
to dance for her alone, and when at the close of the
performance, remembering how she had seen the
great ladies of the Court throw bouquets to Caffarelli
the famous Italian treble, whom the Pope had sent
from his own chapel to Madrid that he might cure
the King's melancholy by the sweetness of his voice,
163
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
she took out of her hair the beautiful white rose, and
partly for the jest and partly to tease the Camerera,
threw it to him across the arena with her sweetest
smile, he took the whole matter quite seriously, and
pressing the flower to his rough coarse lips he put his
hand upon his heart, and sank on one knee before
her, grinning from ear to ear, and with his little
bright eyes sparkling with pleasure.
This so upset the gravity of the Infanta that she
kept on laughing long after the little Dwarf had run
out of the arena, and expressed a desire to her uncle
that the dance should be immediately repeated. The
Camerera, however, on the plea that the sun was too
hot, decided that it would be better that her high-
ness should return without delay to the Palace, where
a wonderful feast had been already prepared for her,
including a real birthday cake with her own initials
worked all over it in painted sugar and a lovely silver
flag waving from the top. The Infanta accordingly
rose up with much dignity, and having given orders
that the little Dwarf was to dance again for her after
the hour of siesta, and conveyed her thanks to the
young Count of Tierra Nueva for his charming re-
ception, she went back to her apartments, the chil-
dren following in the same order in which they had
entered.
Now when the little Dwarf heard that he was to
dance a second time before the Infanta, and by her
164
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
own express command, he was so proud that he ran
out into the garden, kissing the white rose in an
absurd ecstasy of pleasure, and making the most un-
couth and clumsy gestures of delight.
The flowers were quite indignant at his daring to
intrude into their beautiful home, and when they saw
him capering up and down the walks, and waving his
arms above his head in such a ridiculous manner,
they could not restrain their feelings any longer.
"He is really far too ugly to be allowed to play in
any place where we are," cried the Tulips.
"He should drink poppy-juice, and go to sleep for
a thousand years," said the great scarlet Lilies, and
they grew quite hot and angry.
"He is a perfect horror!" screamed the Cactus.
"Why, he is twisted and stumpy, and his head is
completely out of proportion with his legs. Really
he makes me feel prickly all over, and if he comes
near me I will sting him with my thorns."
"And he has actually got one of my best blooms,"
exclaimed the White Rose-Tree. "I gave it to the
Infanta this morning myself, as a birthday present,
and he has stolen it from her." And she called out:
"Thief, thief, thief!" at the top of her voice.
Even the red Geraniums, who did not usually give
themselves airs, and were known to have a great
many poor relations, themselves, curled up in disgust
when they saw him, and when the Violets meekly
165
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
remarked that though he was certainly extremely
plain, still he could not help it, they retorted with
a good deal of justice that that was his chief defect,
and that there was no reason why one should admire
a person because he was incurable; and, indeed, some
of the Violets themselves felt that the ugliness of the
little Dwarf was almost ostentatious, and that he
would have shown much better taste if he had looked
sad, or at least pensive, instead of jumping about
merrily, and throwing himself into such grotesque
and silly attitudes.
As for the old Sun-dial, who was an extremely re-
markable individual, and had once told the time of
day to no less a person than the Emperor Charles V
himself, he was so taken aback by the little Dwarf's
appearance, that he almost forgot to mark two whole
minutes with his long shadowy finger, and could not
help saying to the great milk-white Peacock, who
was sunning herself on the balustrade, that every one
knew that the children of Kings were Kings, and
that the children of charcoal-burners were charcoal-
burners, and that it was absurd to pretend that it
wasn't so; a statement with which the Peacock en-
tirely agreed, and indeed screamed out, "Certainly,
certainly," in such a loud, harsh voice, that the gold-
fish who lived in the basin of the cool splashing foun-
tain put their heads out of the water, and asked
the huge stone Tritons what on earth was the matter.
1 66
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
But somehow the Birds liked him. They had seen
him often in the forest, dancing about like an elf after
the eddying leaves, or crouched up in the hollow of
some old oak-tree, sharing his nuts with the squirrels.
They did not mind his being ugly, a bit. Why, even
the nightingale herself, who sang so sweetly in the
orange groves at night that sometimes the Moon
leaned down to listen, was not much to look at after
all; and, besides, he had been kind to them, and dur-
ing that terrible winter when there were no berries
on the trees, and the ground was hard as iron, and
the wolves had come down to the very gates of the
city to look for food, he had never once forgotten
them, but had always given them crumbs out of his
little hunch of black bread, and divided with them
whatever poor breakfast he had.
So they flew round and round him, just touching
his cheek with their wings as they passed, and chat-
tered to each other, and the little Dwarf was so
pleased that he could not help showing them the
beautiful white rose, and telling them that the In-
fanta herself had given it to him because she loved
him.
They did not understand a single word of what he
was saying, but that made no matter, for they put
their heads on one side, and looked wise, which is
quite as good as understanding a thing, and very
much easier.
167
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
The Lizards also took an immense fancy to him,
and when he grew tired of running about and flung
himself down on the grass to rest, they played and
romped all over him, and tried to amuse him in the
best way they could. "Every one cannot be as beau-
tiful as a lizard," they cried ; "that would be too much
to expect. And, though it sounds absurd to say so,
he is really not so ugly after all, provided, of course,
that one shuts one's eyes, and does not look at him."
The Lizards were extremely philosophical by nature,
and often sat thinking for hours and hours together,
when there was nothing else to do, or when the
weather was too rainy for them to go out.
The Flowers, however, were excessively annoyed
at their behavior, and at the behavior of the birds.
"It only shows," they said, "what a vulgarizing effect
this incessant rushing and flying about has. Well-
bred people always stay exactly in the same place, as
we do. No one ever saw us hopping up and down
the walks, or galloping madly through the grass after
dragon-flies. When we do want change of air, we
send for the gardener, and he carries us to another
bed. This is dignified, and as it should be. But
birds and lizards have no sense of repose, and indeed
birds have not even a permanent address. They are
mere vagrants like the gypsies, and should be treated
in exactly the same manner." So they put their noses
in the air, and looked haughty, and were quite de-
168
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
lighted when after some time they saw the little
Dwarf scramble up from the grass, and make his way
across the terrace to the palace.
"He should certainly be kept indoors for the rest
of his natural life," they said. "Look at his hunched
back, and his crooked legs," and they began to titter.
But the little Dwarf knew nothing of all this. He
liked the birds and the lizards immensely, and
thought that the flowers were the most marvelous
thing in the whole world, except of course the In-
fanta, but then she had given him the beautiful white
rose, and she loved him, and that made a great differ-
ence. How he wished that he had gone back with
her! She would have put him on her right hand,
and smiled at him, and he would have never left her
side, but would have made her his playmate, and
taught her all kinds of delightful tricks. For though
he had never been in a palace before, he knew a great
many wonderful things. He could make little cages
out of rushes for the grasshoppers to sing in, and
fashion the long-jointed bamboo into the pipe that
Pan loves to hear. He knew the cry of every bird,
and could call the starlings from the tree-top, or
the heron from the mere. He knew the trail of every
animal, and could track the hare by its delicate foot-
prints, and the boar by the trampled leaves. All the
wind-dances he knew, the mad dance in red raiment
with the autumn, the light dance in blue sandals over
169
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
the corn, the dance with white snow-wreaths in win-
ter, and the blossom-dance through the orchards in
spring. He knew where the wood-pigeons built their
nests, and once when a fowler had snared the parent
birds, he had brought up the young ones himself,
and had built a little dovecot for them in the cleft of
a pollard elm. They were quite tame, and used to
feed out of his hands every morning. She would
like them, and the rabbits that scurried about in the
long fern, and the jays with their steely feathers and
black bills, and the hedgehogs that could curl them-
selves up into prickly balls, and the great wise tor-
toises that crawled slowly about, shaking their heads
and nibbling at the young leaves. Yes, she must cer-
tainly come to the forest and play with him. He
would give her his own little bed, and would keep
watch outside the window till dawn, to see that the
wild horned cattle did not harm her, nor the gaunt
wolves creep too near the hut. And at dawn he
would tap at the shutters and wake her, and they
would go out and dance together all the day long.
It was really not a bit lonely in the forest. Some-
times a Bishop rode through on his white mule, read-
ing out of a painted book. Sometimes, in their green
velvet caps, and their jerkins of tanned deerskin, the
falconers passed by, with hooded hawks on their
wrists. At vintage time came the grape-treaders,
with purple hands and feet, wreathed with glossy
170
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
ivy and carrying dripping skins of wine; and the
charcoal-burners sat round their huge braziers at
night, watching the dry logs charring slowly in the
fire, and roasting chestnuts in the ashes, and the rob-
bers came out of their caves and made merry with
them. Once, too, he had seen a beautiful procession
winding up the long dusty road to Toledo. The
monks went in front singing sweetly, and carrying
bright banners and crosses of gold, and then, in silver
armor, with matchlocks and pikes, came the soldiers,
and in their midst walked three barefooted men, in
strange yellow dresses painted all over with wonder-
ful figures, and carrying lighted candles in their
hands. Certainly there was a great deal to look at in
the forest, and when she was tired he would find a
soft bank of moss for her, or carry her in his arms,
for he was very strong, though he knew that he was
not tall. He would make her a necklace of red
bryony berries, that would be quite as pretty as the
white berries that she wore on her dress, and when
she was tired of them, she could throw them away,
and he would find her others. He would bring her
acorn-cups and dew-drenched anemones, and tiny
glow-worms to be stars in the pale gold of her hair.
But where was she? He asked the white rose, and
it made him no answer. The whole palace seemed
asleep, and even where the shutters had not been
closed, heavy curtains had been drawn across the win-
171
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
dows to keep out the glare. He wandered all round
looking for some place through which he might gain
an entrance, and at last he caught sight of a little
private door that was lying open. He slipped
through, and found himself in a splendid hall, far
more splendid, he feared, than the forest, there was
so much more gilding everywhere, and even the floor
was made of great colored stones, fitted together into
a sort of geometrical pattern. But the little Infanta
was not there, only some wonderful white statues that
looked down on him from their jasper pedestals,
with sad blank eyes and strangely smiling lips.
At the end of the hall a richly embroidered cur-
tain of black velvet powdered with suns and stars,
the King's favorite devices, and broidered on the
color he loved best. Perhaps she was hiding behind
that? He would try at any rate.
So he stole quietly across, and drew it aside. No;
there was only another room, though a prettier room,
he thought, than the one he had just left. The walls
were hung with a many-figured green arras of needle-
wrought tapestry representing a hunt, the work of
some Flemish artists who had spent more than seven
years in its composition. It had once been the cham-
ber of Jean le Fou, as he was called, that mad King
who was so enamored of the chase, that he often tried
in his delirium to mount the huge rearing horses,
and to drag down the stag on which the great
172
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
hounds were leaping, sounding his hunting horn, and
stabbing with his dagger at the pale flying deer. It
was now used as the council-room, and on the center-
table were lying red port-folios of the minister
stamped with the gold tulips of Spain, and with the
arms and emblems of the house of Hapsburg.
The little Dwarf looked in wonder all round him,
and was half afraid to go on. The strange silent
horsemen that galloped so swiftly through the long
glades without making any noise, seemed to him like
those terrible phantoms of whom he had heard char-
coal-burners speaking — the Comprachos, who hunt
only at night, and if they meet a man, turn him into
a hind, and chase him. But he thought of the pretty
Infanta, and took courage. He wanted to find her
alone, and to tell her that he too loved her. Per-
haps she was in the room beyond.
He ran across the soft Moorish carpets, and opened
the door. No! She was not here either. The room
was quite empty.
It was a throne-room, used for the reception of
foreign ambassadors, when the King, which of late
had not been often, consented to give them a personal
audience; the same room in which, many years be-
fore, envoys had appeared from England to make
arrangements for the marriage of their Queen, then
one of the Catholic sovereigns of Europe, with the
Emperor's eldest son. The hangings were of gilt
173
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
Cordovan leather, and a heavy gilt chandelier with
branches for three hundred wax lights hung down
from the black and white ceiling. Underneath a
great canopy of gold cloth, on which the lions and
towers of Castile were broidered in seed pearls, stood
the throne itself, covered with a rich pall of black
velvet studded with silver tulips and elaborately
fringed with silver and pearls. On the second step
of the throne was placed the kneeling-stool of the
Infanta, with its cushion of cloth of silver tissue,
and below that again, and beyond the limit of the
canopy, stood the chair for the Papal Nuncio, who
alone had the right to be seated in the King's pres-
ence on the occasion of any public ceremonial, and
whose Cardinal hat, with its tangled scarlet tassels,
lay on a purple tabouret in front. On the wall, fac-
ing the throne, hung a life-sized portrait of Charles V
in hunting dress, with a great mastiff by his side, and
a picture of Philip II receiving the homage of the
Netherlands occupied the center of the other wall.
Between the windows stood a black ebony cabinet,
inlaid with plates of ivory, on which the figures from
Holbein's Dance of Death had been graved — by the
hand, some said, of that famous master himself.
But the little Dwarf cared nothing for all this
magnificence. He would not have given his rose
for all the pearls on the canopy, nor one white petal
of his rose for the throne itself. What he wanted
174
THE BIRTHDAY OF THE INFANTA
It was a monster, the most grotesque monster he had ever beheld.
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
was to see the Infanta before she went down to the
pavilion, and to ask her to come away with him when
he had finished his dance. Here, in the Palace, the
air was close and heavy, but in the forest the wind
blew free, and the sunlight with wandering hands of
gold moved the tremulous leaves aside. There were
flowers too, in the forest, not so splendid, perhaps,
as the flowers in the gardens, but more sweetly
scented for all that; hyacinths in early spring that
flooded with waving purple the cool glens, and grassy
knolls; yellow primroses that nestled in little clumps
round the gnarled roots of the oak-trees; bright
celandine, and blue speedwell, and irises lilac and
gold. There were gray catkins on the hazels, and
the fox-gloves drooped with the weight of their dap-
pled bee-haunted cells. The chestnut had its spires
of white stars, and the hawthorn its pallid moons of
beauty. Yes : surely she would come if he could only
find her! She would come with him to the fair for-
est, and all day long he would dance for her delight.
A smile lit up his eyes at the thought, and he passed
into the next room.
Of all the rooms this was the brightest and the most
beautiful. The walls were covered with a pink-
flowered Lucca damask, patterned with birds and
dotted with dainty blossoms of silver; the furniture
was of massive silver, festooned with florid wreaths
and swinging Cupids; in front of the two large fire-
175
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
places stood great screens broidered with parrots
and peacocks, and the floor, which was of sea-green
onyx, seemed to stretch far away in the distance.
Nor was he alone. Standing under the shadow of
the doorway, at the extreme end of the room, he saw
a little figure watching him. His heart trembled,
a cry of joy broke from his lips, and he moved out
into the sunlight. As he did so, the figure moved out
also, and he saw it plainly.
The Infanta! It was a monster, the most grotesque
monster he had ever beheld. Not properly shaped,
as all other people were, but hunchbacked, and
crooked-limbed, with huge lolling head and mane
of black hair. The little Dwarf frowned, and the
monster frowned also. He laughed, and it laughed
with him, and held its hands to its sides, just as he
himself was doing. He made it a mocking bow, and
it returned him a low reverence. He went towards
it, and it came to meet him, copying each step that he
made, and stopping when he stopped himself. He
shouted with amusement, and ran forward, and
reached out his hand, and the hand of the monster
touched his, and it was as cold as ice. He grew afraid,
and moved his hand across, and the monster's hand
followed it quickly. He tried to press on, but some-
thing smooth and hard stopped him. The face of
the monster was now close to his own, and seemed
full of terror. He brushed his hair off his eyes. It
176
THE BIRTH DA Y OF THE INFANTA
iMi Bella Princessa, your funny little dwarf will never dance again"1' '.
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
imitated him. He struck at it, and it returned blow
for blow. He loathed it, and it made hideous faces
at him. He drew back, and it retreated.
What is it? He thought for a moment, and looked
round at the rest of the room. It was strange, but
everything seemed to have its double in this invisible
wall of clear water. Yes, picture for picture was
repeated, and couch for couch. The sleeping Faun
that lay in the alcove by the doorway had its twin
brother that slumbered, and the silver Venus that
stood in the sunlight held out her arms to a Venus
as lovely as herself.
Was it echo? He had called to her once in the
valley, and she had answered him word for word.
Could she mock the eye, as she mocked the voice?
Could she make a mimic world just like the real
world? Could the shadow of things have color and
life and movement? Could it be that — ?
He started, and taking from his breast the beau-
tiful white rose, he turned round and kissed it. The
monster had a rose of its own, petal for petal the
same! It kissed it with like kisses, and pressed it to
its heart with horrible gestures.
When the truth dawned upon him, he gave a wild
cry of despair, and fell sobbing to the ground. So
it was he who was misshapen and hunchbacked, foul
to look at and grotesque. He himself was the mon-
ster, and it was at him that all the children had been
177
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
laughing, and the little Princess who he had thought
loved him, — she too had been merely mocking at his
ugliness, and making merry over his twisted limbs.
Why had they not left him in the forest where there
was no mirror to tell him how loathsome he was?
Why had his father not killed him, rather than sell
him to his shame? The hot tears poured down his
cheeks, and he tore the white rose to pieces. The
sprawling monster did the same, and scattered the
faint petals in the air. It groveled on the ground,
and, when he looked at it, it watched him with a face
drawn with pain. He crept away, lest he should
see it, and covered his eyes with his hands. He
crawled, like some wounded thing, into the shadow,
and lay there moaning.
And at that moment the Infanta herself came in
with her companions through the open window, and
when they saw the ugly Dwarf lying on the ground
and beating the floor with his clenched hands, in the
most fantastic and exaggerated manner, they went
off into shouts of happy laughter, and stood all round
him and watched him.
"His dancing was funny," cried the Infanta; "but
his acting is funnier still. Indeed he is almost as
good as the puppets, only of course not so natural."
And she fluttered her big fan, and applauded.
But the little Dwarf never looked up, and his sobs
grew fainter and fainter, and suddenly he gave a
178
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
curious gasp, and clutched his side. And then he
fell back again, and lay quite still.
"That is capital," said the Infanta, after a pause;
"but now you must dance for me."
"Yes," cried all the children, "you must get up
and dance, for you are as clever as the Barbary apes,
and much more ridiculous."
But the little Dwarf made no answer.
And the Infanta stamped her foot, and called out
to her uncle, who was walking on the terrace with
the Chamberlain, reading some dispatches that had
just arrived from Mexico where the Holy Office had
recently been established. "My funny little Dwarf is
sulking," she cried, "you must wake him up, and tell
him to dance for me."
They smiled at each other, and sauntered in, and
Don Pedro stooped down, and slapped the Dwarf
on the cheek with his embroidered glove. "You
must dance," he said, "petit monstre. You must
dance. The Infanta of Spain and the Indies wishes
to be amused."
But the little Dwarf never moved.
"A whipping-master should be sent for," said Don
Pedro wearily, and he went back to the terrace. But
the Chamberlain looked grave, and he knelt beside
the little Dwarf, and put his hands upon his heart.
And after a few moments he shrugged his shoulders,
179
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES
and rose up, and having made a low bow to me
Infanta, he said:
"Mi bella Princessa, your funny little Dwarf will
never dance again. It is a pity, for he is so ugly that
he might have made the King smile."
"But why will he not dance again?" asked the
Infanta, laughing.
"Because his heart is broken," answered the Cham-
berlain.
And the Infanta frowned, and her dainty rose-leaf
lips curled in pretty disdain. "For the future let
those who come to play with me have no hearts," she
cried, and she ran out into the garden.
1 80
f* ^ U •:vvv v > •.
^0> "°w
0 * <**/r??*-. * o
<*
*\ .<i> *\
k° **< av ■
Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process.
a^ *$*. J«^liQ40 .$ ^v °'W/Ww/ ^ Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide
% ■ Treatment Date: May 2009
- ° " c - ^
fiyv k^
nq.
o
o
o
<^ 6 o " PreservationTechnologies
\ A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION \
2%
111 Thomson Park Drive
Cranberry Township, PA 16066
(724) 779-2111
/^ ♦* %
*, *-..»• ,0
O a"* c ° ° ♦ '*a CT • l
°, / -<•<
o V
lO -7-, „*l ^
*** o
k N <t C\\\\\ I Y^a* "^ » ^ J&nl //sj^-z -p \ " x *:OxN.\\\ IV^fck •» >. -
' . . «
jP-nc.
>0^
^ ,^ /.
£ . , •
«? V,
0'
^ %
V « » • o.
r^
c0>
•o V
V
^
Live Music Archive
Librivox Free Audio
Metropolitan Museum
Cleveland Museum of Art
Internet Arcade
Console Living Room
Open Library
American Libraries
TV News
Understanding 9/11